Windfall
by Ysabet
Summary: A sequel to 'Second Wind' just couldn't resist. Ayumichan has questions... and Kaitou Kid has answers! ...and yes, the storyline's still alive Chapter 23, uploaded September 11, 2007. See? NOT dead!
1. Apprenticeship

**Windfall******

**By Ysabet**

**_wind·_****_fall_**_ (w nd fôl ):  1. A sudden, unexpected piece of good fortune or personal gain.  2. Something, such as a ripened fruit, that has been blown down by the wind.  (Miriam-Webster Dictionary)_

_Part One:  Apprenticeship_

"How do you _do that?"_

"Hm?"  The young man in the scruffy jeans and t-shirt looked up from what he was doing; a small girl stood a few feet away on the sidewalk, dark eyes staring in fascination.  He looked down at the four almond-sized pebbles that he had been juggling absentmindedly.  "What, this?"  The stones moved steadily in flight, tumbling over and over perfectly from hand to hand.

"Uh huh….."  Her gaze never wavered as she hopped up onto the park bench beside him.  "How do you keep them _moving like that?  Don't you ever drop them??"  Around and around the pebbles went in a circle, changing in pattern every few seconds.  The clever hands seemed to move almost without volition, as if they possessed a life of their own._

"Nahhh; I've been juggling for a long time—I could do this in my sleep."  With a nearly-invisible flick of a wrist he added a fifth pebble.  "'Course, you get better when you practice a lot."  The teenager chuckled; "I'm always snitching things from my friends and juggling them—you know, like their house-keys, erasers when we're at school, their shoes, their lunch, their books… that sort of thing."

"Oh.  I thought stealing stuff was wrong, though….. doesn't that make them mad at you?"  The little girl regarded him solemnly, her wide eyes seeming almost hypnotized by the constantly-moving circle of stones.

"Sometimes….. but I always give everything back."

"Oh.  That's okay, then."  

For a few minutes neither spoke; the only sounds were the nearby rush of city traffic, the shouts and screams of playing children and the squawks of the small crowd of pigeons that the child had been feeding.  The whirr of the stones orbiting through the air was nearly silent; with a look of studious absent-mindedness, the brown-haired young man added a sixth pebble and then a small, paper-wrapped something to the circle.  He juggled for a few more moments, molding the pattern from a circle into an arch, a figure-eight, a double curve; "Hold out your hand, okay?  Palm up."

Hesitantly the girl held a small, grubby hand out; the pebbles plonked into their manipulator's hands with an air of finality, but the last item dropped lightly into hers.  She blinked down at the piece of candy.  "I'm not supposed to take candy from strangers; my 'Kaachan said so…" she informed him in a conversational tone, poking at it rather wistfully with one finger.

He grinned, the expression lighting up his face and making his blue eyes flash.  "Well, I don't want you getting into trouble with your mom—"  Tugging a handkerchief that had seen better days from his pocket, the young man dropped it lightly over her hand; "Three—Two—One!" and he pulled it away with a flourish.  The candy had disappeared.

"Awwwww…"  The little girl looked crestfallen.

"Hey, no problem—we can fix that."  He reached out the hand not holding the handkerchief.  "My name's… well, you can call me Hei.  Hei-san.  What's your name, kid?"

Hanging back for a moment, the child seemed to consider the matter; after a second or so she seemed to come to the conclusion that he was safe, smiling up at the teenager.  "I'm Ayumi."  Solemnly she shook, her small hand disappearing in his.  He grinned back at her cheerfully, stuffing the handkerchief back into his pocket; when he let go of the handshake, the piece of candy lay back on the girl's palm.

"There.  Now we know each other's names, so I can give you this, right?"

She giggled, peeling off the wrapper and popping the sweet into her mouth.  "Guess so."  She sat for a few moments, examining his face with a brown-eyed, candid gaze.  "I knew somebody else named Hei-san once… he used to work at my school," she announced, swinging her legs.  "He was funny—_he used to do magic tricks for us too sometimes, when we were on the playground.  But he went away after….."  Ayumi's voice trailed off as her face grew troubled, her eyes shadowing a little._

The young man studied her for a moment, his own face betraying very little.  Then he nodded.  "A funny man, huh?  Well, I'm pretty funny myself."  He stretched a bit, long legs sprawled before him and skinny-wristed arms above his head.  "So what're you doing here at the park, Ayumi-san?"

The adult-sounding honorific made her perk up, and she giggled again.  "Just playing….. me and my friends like to meet here.  I got here first today, though—they're _slow, 'cause three of them are boys.  Boys are __always slow," she said with all the loftiness of a growing eight-year-old girl.  "'Course, you're a grownup; maybe boys get better at stuff like that when they grow up," she added generously._

The teenager calling himself Hei-san laughed at that, shaking his head; he leaned back comfortably.  "Not sure about _that, y'know… my friend Aoko'd tell you you're wrong.  She says I'm __always late when we go places."  He frowned, thinking about it.  "Come to think of it, she's probably right….."_

Ayumi merely nodded, accepting this at face value.  Her dark eyes scanned the spaces between the trees as she surveyed the park, watching for her friends.  They were _*really* late this time…..  _

Annoyed, the little girl muttered something half-under her breath that made the young man beside her arch one eyebrow and half-frown at her, though his eyes twinkled in amusement; "I don't think you're supposed to know words like that, Ayumi-kun, much less call your friends those sorts of names.  Where'd you learn 'em, huh?"

She turned innocent eyes on him.  "From some boys in the Video Arcade we go to; they were mad because _their friends were late.  I heard them call their friends those names—I don't know what the words mean, though…..  'Kaachan says it's good to learn new stuff; what __do they mean?"_

"Uhhhh….."  He sputtered slightly for a moment, his usual cheerful expression nonplussed; then he copped out utterly, floundering for an excuse.  "Um, I don't know—I mean, not _exactly—errrrr….."_

She crossed her arms and regarded him severely with what her friends would have recognized as the Ayumi Death Glare.  "Hmph.  If nobody'll tell me stuff, how can I ever learn?"  The little girl stuck out her bottom lip and sulked for a moment.  "That's what _Conan-kun does, too… he talks about interesting stuff just enough to make you want to ask questions, and then he won't answer them!"  Her lip stuck a little further out as she chewed on it._

Hei-san eyed her, shoving back a tumble of dark brown hair from his forehead.   "So what d'you do then?  I mean, when he won't tell you things?"

Ayumi scowled ferociously.  "I bug him and bug him and _bug him until he gives.  Or I cry at him; he really __HATES that… he gets all red and stammers."  She cocked her head to one side uncertainly, looking up at the teenager.  "I guess I could *try* and cry at you….."_

"Uh, nono— don't do that—"   His eyes bugged out slightly.  For the first time a thread of nervousness crept into the young man's voice; what had he gotten himself into?  "Instead, why don't I—well—uh—"  His gaze lit on the pebbles he was still holding; he seized the change of topic gratefully.  "Why don't I teach you how to juggle?"

"Really?!?"  The little girl's face lit up like a Christmas tree; "I don't think even _CONAN knows how to juggle!!  Will you teach me?  Please?"_

"Um, sure…..  I've got to go in a little bit, but I guess I can help you learn the basics."  Hei-san wiped at his forehead, wondering how to handle this.  He stared down at the hopeful face that beamed up at his.  It wouldn't be the first time he had ever taught somebody else a trick, but they were usually a little older than Ayumi-kun…..  "Before I teach you, though, you have to promise me something, okay?  Don't tell _anybody who taught you."_

The little girl's forehead wrinkled in puzzlement.  "Why not?"  She took two of the pebbles from his open hand, turning them in her small fingers. 

"Well, see, I'm a magician—I do magic shows for people sometimes, and if the other magicians heard that I was teaching you how to juggle, they just might think I was telling you some of the secrets of our tricks too.  We don't _ever do that, y'know.  So don't tell, okay?"  Truthfully he wasn't quite sure just why he didn't want her telling—maybe it had to do with a certain runty little detective she hung around with—maybe not.  It just sounded like a good idea._

The child thought about it seriously; she seemed to be a bright little thing, but Hei-san already knew that pretty well.  "O…kay, I guess.  I promise."

"Okay—let's start off with two pebbles…..  Now, hold your hands out like this---"  Dim memories of his father's voice saying _'That's right, straight in front of you just like that; toss it up now so you can gage the height you'll need' flickered through his mind, making him smile.  __*So Conan-kun doesn't know how to do this, hm?  Right; let's show the little twerp something new.*_

"Now, toss the one in your right hand straight up—"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Hey, Ayumi-kun?  Where'd you learn to do that?"  Conan stared, puzzled, as the little girl fumblingly juggled two small stones; she was clumsy and unpracticed but was visibly improving.

She frowned, concentrating; several yards away Genta and Mitsuhiko paused to stare with simultaneous exclamations of "Cool!"  Rin smiled from beside her on the park bench, tilting her head to one side.  "I didn't know you knew how to juggle, Ayumi-kun," she observed, her chocolate-brown eyes curious.  "Who taught you?"

Ayumi giggled, working hard at keeping the stones in the air.  "Not gonna tell you….."

"Huh?  Why not?"  Conan left his skateboard upside down on the ground, the small screwdrivers he had been using on it laying haphazardly about in the grass.

"'Cause I promised."

Rin and Conan blinked at one another in puzzlement, then sat back on the bench, legs dangling, to watch their young friend practice.

********************************************************************************************************************

"Hey, pretty good, kid!"  The voice came from behind a tree to her left.  Ayumi jumped slightly, peering at the tree; nobody there.  Frowning, she almost missed her catch but managed somehow to keep the pebbles she was attempting to juggle moving more or less correctly.

"Keep that up and you can add a third rock pretty soon, so long as you keep practicing…"  Now the voice seemed to be coming from the trash-can beside the bench.  Ayumi's eyes widened a little, but she kept juggling.  "Hei-san?" she asked the air tentatively.  It _sounded like him….._

"Over here!"

"… _and over here!"_

"and over here…"

Scowling ferociously, Ayumi caught her pebbles and knotted her small hands into fists around them.  Uncertainly she stared in turn at two other trees and a large rock; no Hei-san in sight.  "Where _ARE you?!?"_

"Find me!"  Now the teasing voice sounded as if it were coming from the branches of the nearest tree.  Hesitantly the little girl slid off the park bench, thinking hard.  She remembered hearing about this from TV—it was called ventral-, ventril-, ventaril… something.  People could sort of put their voices somewhere else, so they sounded like they were anywhere but where they were.  So….. if Hei-san *wasn't* where his voice was coming from, then he *wasn't* behind those trees or up in the branches or hiding behind the trashcan or under the rock…..  

With surprising methodicalness for a gradeschooler Ayumi scanned her surroundings, mentally checking off hiding places.  Where _was he??  "All those places where your voice was are in front of me….." she said slowly; "So—that means you're—"_

A finger tapped her on top of her head, making her jump; she snatched at it, barely missing, and Hei-san laughed as he leaned over from where he had been standing behind her.  "Gotcha!"

This time his voice seemed to come from the right place.  Ayumi wrinkled her nose, impressed.  "That was _really neat.  Can you teach me how to do that too?"  She smiled to herself, picturing some of the tricks she could play if she could put her voice in Conan's lunchtray or Rin's backpack._

Hei-san plunked himself down on the bench beside her; today he was wearing a school uniform.  Somehow, though, he looked just as scruffy as he had the week before, when she had seen him in his ripped jeans and t-shirt.  "I could try…" he said somewhat doubtfully; "It's a lot harder than juggling, though.  You sort of have to juggle your voice, and that takes a lot of diaphragm control."

"What's a dia- diaf—"

He pointed to his midsection.  "It's something you use to make your voice stronger or pitched differently.  Hm; maybe if you start by learning how to imitate voices you'll strengthen yours enough….."

Ayumi-chan perked up.  _"That sounds like fun—can you teach me how to do that?  __Please, Hei-san?"   She kicked her feet in excitement where they dangled off the bench; one small sandal dropped to the ground but she ignored its loss._

_*Those big brown eyes….. aw, man…..*  Like most people who are fond of kids, the young man succumbed with barely a struggle.   "I guess…..  How DID I end up being your tutor, anyway?"  He scratched his head._

She shrugged, scrabbling around in her pockets; several pigeons had landed nearby, and she tossed them a broken cookie that she had been saving for later.  "You just _*did.*  And anyway," she pointed out, dusting her hands off, "aren't adults supposed to teach kids stuff?"_

The young man beside her considered the matter solemnly, leaning back and tilting his face up to the afternoon sunlight.  He seemed to find it not in the least unusual to be holding a serious conversation with an eight-year-old.  "I guess you're right.  And I started learning magic tricks and juggling and other things when I was even younger than you, so…"  He clasped his hands backwards before him, cracking his knuckles and flexing his long, nimble fingers.  "Are you waiting for your friends again?"

"Uh-huh; they're late…..  Genta-kun had to stay after class because he got into a squabble with Mitsuhiko-kun, and Rin-kun got caught passing notes to Conan-kun again."   Her face fell a little.  "Rin-kun…..  Conan-kun's waiting for her.  He doesn't play with me as much as he used to—he just wants to play with _Rin.  They talk an awful lot."  She was silent, fiddling a little with the stones; the young man beside her watched sympathectically.  After a moment she continued, a somewhat doleful and confused note in her young voice.  "She—I like Rin-kun, she's my friend, but she's… funny.  Sometimes she says things and does things kind of like Conan does—like she knows more than the rest of us.  She's awfully smart….."_

Ayumi's voice dropped into silence; for a few long seconds the small clearing held only the sounds of traffic and the calling of birds.  Hei-san nodded as though he understood, rumpling his dark brown hair back from his forehead with one careless hand.  "Well, Rin and Conan are both… a bit _different from most other kids, y'know?"_

The little girl glanced up, tossing a pebble (the speckled one, her favorite) from hand to hand.  "I know…..  I don't know _how she's different, but I *know.*  Rin-kun…  When she came here….."  Ayumi hesitated, wrinkling her brow.  "I wish Ran-neechan was still here," she said abruptly._

"Why?"

"Because….."  Ayumi bit her lip, fumbling with her juggling stones a little.  "Just because.  Because—because I want to see her and Rin-kun at the same time.  'Cause….. never mind."

The teenager sat silently, watching.  His face was calm, betraying nothing of what he might be thinking.

"Hei-san?  How do you know Conan and Rin?  And Ran-neechan?"

"Oh…  I know all sorts of people…..  I come to this park a lot."  It didn't occur to Ayumi that his second statement might have absolutely nothing to do with his first; she accepted the explanation without comment.

The child sighed; shaking her head as if to rattle uncomfortable thoughts out of it, she looked down and carefully positioned her stones to juggle.  Hei-san eyed her for a moment, then moved the small hands a little closer to her waist.  "You don't want to hold 'em too far out—it's easier to lose your control if you do."  She nodded, tossing the first pebble into the air.

She concentrated hard on not messing up in front of her teacher, biting her lower lip in concentration; the stones began to circle with a little more regularity and precision.  "…..  Hei-san?  Who taught you all this stuff?"

He clasped his hands behind his head, stretching his legs out before him as he leaned back in what she was coming to see as his favorite position.  Dark blue eyes stared off a little distantly into the leaves overhead.  "My dad—he was a magician, a _really great one.  He wanted me to follow in his footsteps—he was the best, and he taught me all sorts of secrets and tricks….."  He laughed a little sadly.  "I didn't learn a few of 'em until just recently, though; there were a couple of things he never told me—I had to find out about some of his more important secrets the hard way….."  He sighed, a rueful look on his thin face; beside him the little girl continued to send her pebbles around and around, one following after the other.  The soft thud of the stones against her palms seemed to counterpoint his thoughts as he continued softly._

"He was a good man—he loved me and Mom a whole lot, and he loved magic too; I think he taught me tricks just so he could share that love with me, y'know?—it was almost like a conversation between us when he was showing me a new one.  There's just something about making everybody laugh or surprising them by doing impossible things… it's a fantastic feeling, and I guess he wanted me to know that feeling too."

Ayumi's juggling faltered at the sadness in his voice; she allowed the stones to drop to the ground.  "Doesn't he do magic anymore?"

Hei-san shook his head, his eyes darkening.  "No… he died when I was a little older than you."

"Oh."  The little girl stared, her eyes large; to his surprise they filled with tears.  "I—I'm sorry, Hei-san."

He smiled down at her again, his expression controlled.  "It's okay; he's been gone a long time now.  I still miss him… I always will.  But it's okay."  Attempting to lighten the mood the teenager reached out and plucked something out of the air, presenting it to Ayumi with a flourish.  "Here; this ought to make us both feel a little better….."

It was a white rose, perfect and fresh; the petals seemed to gleam with their own inner light in the dark green tree-shadows.  Ayumi exclaimed over the flower in delight, all sadness forgotten_.  "Oooo, pretty!  Is it really for me?  Thank you!!"  She stroked the petals, cradling the bloom carefully in her small hands.  "But why would it make *you* feel better too?"_

His eyes twinkled.  "'Cause it _always makes a guy feel good to give flowers to a pretty girl.  I give roses to my—I mean, to Aoko all the time."  He laughed wryly.  "Keeps her on her toes, y'know?  And I don't think she hits me with her mop quite as hard as she could because of 'em."_

"Aoko?  Who's that?  Why would she hit you with a mop?"  Ayumi buried her face in the flower, breathing in the sweetness; she looked up at him after a moment, pollen dusting the end of her nose.  _*Geez, she's a cute kid, isn't she?  Makes me wish I had a little sister; being an only child isn't all it's cracked up to be.*_

"Oh, just a girl I know.  She has a really awful temper, but she's sort of nice anyway.  I've known her since I was about your age."   His sharp gaze had been scanning between the trees; it suddenly fixed on several small figures heading towards the bench.  "Gotta go now, Ayumi-chan.  Tell you what—" he said to her downcast face, "—you practice copying people's voices, okay?  Just think hard about how they sound and try and imitate them—oh, and _never ask *them* if you sound right, because nobody ever really sounds like they think they do.  Ask somebody else."  _

Watching the children meandering towards them, Hei-san suddenly got a rather gleeful smirk on his face.  "In fact…… why don't you work on imitating _Conan's voice?  That'd be a good start."  Mentally he rubbed his hands together.  __*Let's see how you handle THAT, Kudo-san…..*_

"Okay—but when'll I see you again?"  She gathered up her pebbles and stuffed them in one pocket, eyes hopeful.

Hei-san stood, stretching.  "Well….. since we keep meeting like this, we ought to make that official.  You come here most afternoons, right?"

"Uh huh."  It didn't occur to Ayumi to ask her friend how he knew this, although later she would wonder.

"So why don't I meet you here every Friday?  You head over a little early and I'll teach you what I can."  He grinned down at her lopsidedly.  "Bet I can make a magician out of you yet….."  The teenager held out a hand.  "You don't tell anybody who's teaching you and I'll keep on with the teaching, okay?  Fair deal?"

Eyes sparkling, Ayumi shook hands with Hei-san for the second time since meeting him.  "Okay!"

"That does it, then--- you are now a Magician's Apprentice.  Better get going now, your friends are coming.  Seeya later, Ayumi-chan!"  He chuckled as she waved and scampered off through the trees, snatching up her fallen sandal en route but not bothering to put it on.  Hei-san's laughter had a certain note of wonder in it, as if his own actions surprised him; he rumpled his hair with one hand, scratching at his head in slight puzzlement.  _*Why am I doing this, anyway?  She's a cute kid, but I've mostly been keeping tabs on her to make sure she hadn't had her psyche scarred for life by that Ojiwa bastard—I hadn't intended to take her under my wing like this at all--*_

_*But-----*_

..… but he really didn't have anybody else to _share his magic with; never had, not since his dad had died.  No matter how many times he performed in small school displays, no matter how many times he did tricks to amuse himself (or befuddle certain less __appreciative audiences, ones in uniforms), their attention stopped at viewing; nobody seemed to want to learn how to do his tricks themselves.  It was a lack he had thought about ruefully a time or two before and tried to remedy, but somehow things just never worked out.  And while it wasn't __really a big deal (or so he told himself), sometimes that lack made him feel maybe the least little bit… lonely._

_*Oh well…..  might be fun, teaching somebody who actually wants to learn.  Besides, this is one way to keep tabs on a certain somebody ELSE as well…..*_

As he slipped away through the lengthening shadows he paused for a second, watching his small friend as she joined the others; one child moved more sedately than the others, more deliberately and less randomly.  _*Hey, Conan-kun; glad to see you're feeling well enough to play with your friends—I wonder, do you really enjoy being a little kid all over again or is it all just that, an act?  Wonder how I'd handle it…?  Bet I'd totally freak out.*_

_*Look at him; he seems… happy.  Happier than he was without 'Rin', that's for sure.  Good for you, Kudo.  Bet you'd be way embarrassed if you knew I was watching you climb on the Monkey Bars, though.*_

_*Guess I'd better get going; got places to go, people to avoid being arrested by, gems to steal…..  I don't really think that that ruby down at the Metro Museum's gonna be the Pandora Gem, but I'd feel like an absolute idiot if I didn't check it out and it DID turn out to be the right one.  Besides, I don't want to disappoint Nakatori-san, do I?*  He chuckled to himself, flexing his fingers; he could almost feel his other self sliding into place with all the ease of a garment being donned—a cloak perhaps, or a top hat….._

Smiling to himself, Hei-san left the park; he had a busy evening ahead.

********************************************************************************************************************

"'Kaachan?"

"Hmmm?  What?"  The woman sat at her computer in the family room, quick fingers flying across the keys as she checked her email.  Her daughter watched for a few minutes more before speaking, toeing the carpet in her bare feet and pajamas.

"Can we grow stuff on our balcony?"

The question was unusual enough to catch her mother's attention;  she quirked one eyebrow towards her child.  "I suppose so… we get enough light.  Why?  Did you want a plant, 'Yumi-chan?"

"Uh huh; I want a rosebush!  Please, 'Kaachan?  Can I have one?"  The child reached across her mother, playing with the mouse and making the pointer spiral all over the screen.  She wiggled impatiently.  "Pleeeeeease?  I'll take care of it— I'll water it and, and bring you flowers, and keep icky bugs away, and—"

"Well….."  She blinked.  _*A rosebush…?  Hmph; who can understand how kids think these days, anyway?*  At least she wasn't asking for another video game.  It was a good sign for her to be so interested in other things beside that detective club she spent so much time playing with, especially after what had happened not that long ago…..  The mother's mind shied away from the whole incident, trying not to consider the 'what ifs' that had haunted her sleep for weeks afterwards.  "I don't see why not; we can pick one out tomorrow—what color of rose would you like, 'Yumi-chan?"_

The little girl bounced in place happily; the mouse-pointer made delighted loops across the monitor.  _"White!"_

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

And as sirens wailed and police inspectors cursed his ancestry, a thief chuckled as he soared on the winds above the city with a glittering jewel clutched in one gloved hand, hefting it absentmindedly and wondering how it would juggle.  He'd have to find several more of matching size and weight….. _temporarily, of course….._

********************************************************************************************************************

_End of Part One_

**_Ysabet's Notes:__  HOW did I ever end up writing a multi-part story like this?  (Wail!) This was supposed to be a one-parter!  Geez……  Um, if you haven't read "Second Wind" you are going to be SO utterly lost here—this is another direct continuation, starting about two weeks after the end of SW.  I really, really, REALLY didn't plan on it being a multi-part thingie, but so it goes; once again a fic has taken on a life of its own.  I swear, when I started thinking about cutting it down it *growled* at me and threatened to hide all my right shoes, an awful thing that has only happened to me once (Don't ask.  Just don't ask.) and not something I wish to see happen again.  So, well…..  Yes, this one'll involve Ayumi's suspicions regarding Rin/Ran; yes, it'll cover a span of a few years; and yes, there will be LOTS of Kaitou Kid as well as Conan in it.  How do I get myself into these things?  Rrrrrgh._**

_Sigh….. I'm really writing this against my better judgment.  I really am.  I'm working on other fics.  It was supposed to be a *short* fic (whimper)!  What happened?!?  **………………………..Ysabet (wandering off in search of her common sense, with *very* little hope of finding it.  This was bound to occur sooner or later.)**_


	2. Child's Play

_Chapter 2:  Child's Play_

__

_Capture the moment—carry the day—  
_

_Stay with the chase as long as you may;  
_

_Follow the Dreamer, the Fool and the Sage  
_

_Back to the days of the Innocent Age….._

_(Dan Fogleberg, 'The Innocent Age')_

_*One of the best things about being occasionally chased across creation,* thought Hei-san sleepily to himself, __*is that you find out all the good places to hide in.*_

He stretched his lanky body full-length, soaking up the sun like a lazy cat; the rays glittered down at him in late-afternoon brilliance, making the clay tiles beneath him beautifully warm.  The heat soaked into his muscles and soothed the bruises and abuse of the previous night's escapades as the young man blink sleepily, his eyes half-lidded.

_*Take rooftops, for instance; nobody ever thinks about rooftops much.  Tile, gravel, tar-paper, shingle, slab, metal (yaaawwwn)… so many different kinds.  And you have to learn what to listen for when you run across 'em, like those tiny little squeaky creaking noises that come right before the damned things collapse—you don't get a lot of warnings.  And then there's the pigeon poop to watch out for and the occasional couple making out on balconies, hidden skylights, all those damned bits of pipe sticking out and the lines of wash…  Rooftops are complicated.  But spots like this, now—once you find a good one, they make great places to just kick back and relax…..*_

He yawned and stretched again, careful not to shift too much sideways; six inches either way would put him rolling off the peak and down a sharply-slanted decline to drop like a stone seven stories towards the concrete below.

_*….. so long as you're not afraid of heights, that is.*_

Hands clasped beneath his head, Hei-san lay relaxed and boneless; the aches and pains of his nocturnal occupation slowly seeped away into the embracing heat and his eyes slid closed against the light.

_*Man… Good workout last night, but I thought Nakamara-san was gonna blow a gasket when I tapped him on the shoulder from behind.  He really needs to lighten up or he's gonna have a heart attack before he catches me.  Not that he's ever GOING to catch me, but it's the principle of the thing; I'd hate to see the guy really get hurt.  Aoko'd be all alone then.* _

Another yawn…..

….. _*zzzzzz*……………_

....  _*Mmph?*_

A flutter of wings nearby jerked him back from the edges of sleep as something with sharp, delicate claws landed lightly on his ankle; he blinked drowsily at the dove perching just above his shoe.  It cooed back, tilting its head to one side inquisitively; was it just him, or did it look sort of reproachful?

_*Yeah, yeah, I know….. can't afford to fall asleep here, can I?  Get your butt in gear, Thief Boy.  You can goof off later—no jobs tonight, just homework and a well-earned bed.  Whoever said that there's no rest for the wicked was really, really out of line, not to mention a bit harsh.  We wicked types work as hard as anybody else, y'know…..*_

A moment's careful movements had him perched in the shadow of a chimney-stack, his back against the warm bricks; the reasons for his visit to this particular rooftop (well, aside from it being a nice place to nap) lay glittering in his now plastic-gloved palm.  Hei-san sighed a little, spilling the gemstones from one hand to the other in a glittering arc of sapphire and emerald.  _*Stupid things… just a bunch of flashy rocks, pretty as they are.  Worth a good chunk of yen, too—and totally worthless to me.  The one **I want is probably in somebody's vault somewhere or something like that; wonder if I'll ever actually find it?***_

It wasn't that he was planning to quit any time soon, hell no—not unless he found what he was looking for.  It was just that it got a bit discouraging sometimes, that was all, looking for the proverbial gemstoned needle in the stupendously valuable haystack…..

Oh well; everybody needed a hobby, right?

Gently Hei-san slid the stones into a prepared zip-lock baggie; they lay glinting incongruously bright within the plastic, and he took a second to scrawl a certain characteristic signature-caricature on the bag with a marker.  Whimsically doodling little 'XXX' kiss-marks all over the surface, he added a solicitous comment that perhaps it would benefit Nakamura to begin drinking decaf (_*THAT ought to make his blood pressure rise,* he thought with a smirk) and then clipped the baggie to a strong, fine strand of nylon fishing twine._

Five minutes later he crouched on the peak's very end, smiling happily down at his handiwork; the bag hung several stories below from a flagpole, softly tapping against an office-window he knew to be Nakamura's.  Coiling up the thin steel cable he had used to loop the line over the pole, he stuffed it into his pocket and chuckled.  _*Wonder how long it'll take for the tapping to get on his nerves?  Tsk, tsk, tsk—here you are worrying about his health, and you deliberately give him something new to stress over.  Bad thief, no biscuit!  But I think he'd be disappointed if I didn't find some way to jerk his chain…..*_

_*….. and besides:  it's just like I was thinking a few minutes ago, right?  Everybody needs a hobby.*_

Hei-san chuckled and sat back on his heels, hands in his pockets.  Then, moving with a precision and native grace that would have astonished any of his schoolmates (who were far more familiar with seeing him jump around like a cricket with its assets on fire, dodging Aoko's broom), he catfooted it lightly along the roof-edge and began the careful trip back to a certain storage-room window three stories down.

As he slid in through the window, his mind drifted back to the consideration of hobbies, especially _his hobbies.   He'd developed a new one a few months back, and he'd be damned if he could figure out how he had managed to get himself into such a fix.  Since when, wondered the teenager, had he become so brain-damaged as to consider taking on a little girl as an apprentice?_

He hadn't _planned to do so….._

….. it had just sort of _happened….._

She was pretty good for her age, though; in the three months that they had been meeting at the park she had progressed from a shaky two-stone juggle to four stones and three different patterns.  And somehow the little conniver had gotten him to start teaching her sleight-of-hand, too!  _*Must be those big brown eyes, I guess; I always was a sucker for cute kids.  Aoko was an awfully cute little girl despite growing up into a mop-wielding maniac, and she manages to get me to do stuff all the time.*  _

With a rueful grimace at his own gullibility, the young man latched the door behind him, slipping smoothly through the hallways and staircases to the fourth floor.  He was just barely in time to see the door click shut about twenty feet away as a familiar figure entered, hefting her backpack behind her; Hei-san smirked to himself, pleased at the perfect timing.  _*Bingo.*_

A minute or two's wait to add validity ("I was right behind you, baka—didn't you hear me yelling to hold the elevator?"), and the persona of 'Hei-san' was left behind as Kuroba Kaito opened Chief Inspector Nakamara's office door, an inquisitive and slightly impatient look on his face.  "Hey, Aoko-kun--?  _There you are—Jeeze, can't you wait up for a guy?  I said I'd meet you down in the lobby—"_

(And from the corner of his eye he could see Aoko's dad slowly turning his head to stare at the small baggie that was steadily swinging in the light breeze to brush against his window, the Kid-caricature plain to be seen..… _tap… tap-tap… tap…)_

As Aoko began to reply--fairly calmly for her, discounting the fact that she was searching for something to throw-- Kaito braced himself for impact and wondered if Edogawa Conan ever had this sort of problem…..

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Edogawa Conan was going to be having his _own brand of difficulties soon enough, if he didn't watch out.  A certain brown-eyed little girl (currently perched high in a rather large tree) would see to that._

Two voices, barely audible, filtered up through the flutter of leaves from below:

"Are you absolutely _sure you want to do this?  I mean, it's not too late to change your mind—"  The boy sounded more than a little doubtful._

"No," said the small girl firmly, scuffing at the grass with the toe of one shoe.  "I want to get it over with.  He's your friend—mine too—and there's too many secrets around here anyway."  A trace of humor crept into her voice as she cocked her head to one side; "Besides, don't you want to see his face when you tell him—?"

A reluctant snicker.  "I guess so….."  The boy she had been addressing seemed to perk up a little, a small, slightly wicked smile beginning to creep onto his face as he shoved his glasses back up his nose with one finger.  "Maybe this can be a sort of payback for all those times he called me 'Kudo' in public."  They both laughed.

Ten feet or so above them the leaves rustled very, very slightly.  _*I wish they'd get on with it; I'm getting BOOOORED* thought Ayumi, peering down at her quarries.  She frowned to herself, puzzled; __*'Kudo'?*_

The girl sat comfortably in the angle of three tree-branches, well hidden from sight; the crook of the limbs made a natural cup that obscured viewing.  She had always been good at climbing, and this particular tree had been her favorite ever since she had first clambered up the rough bark the previous summer; but she had never stayed up in it for quite so long before, and _never for such an odd purpose:  to spy on her friends._

_That thought made the child wince—it sounded so much better to think of it as 'detectiving' or 'being on a stakeout' or something like that.  But….._

Conan and Rin-kun were her _*friends.*   And yet there she was, sitting in a tree and hiding as well as she could, trying to hear what they were saying.  Ayumi felt her face redden at the very thought; if somebody had done this to __her and she had found out, she was pretty sure she would have cried._

_*Maybe I had better get down,* she thought unhappily, shifting slightly.  She was well hidden, she knew that, but it would be so easy to knock a bit of bark down on her friends below… and then it wouldn't even be her fault if they looked up and caught her._

But they'd be mad.  _Really mad, maybe….. _

…..even though she was doing this because of Conan's Ran-neechan.  Sort of.

_*I wish she was here.  I wish--*  Ayumi bit her lip._

_*I wish--*_

*…….......*

It had all started the day before, when she and the others had gone to Conan-kun's to pick him and Rin up.  It was Sunday afternoon, and they were all heading for the library; there was a Book Fair being held and everyone had a certain amount of pocket-money to spend.  Even Genta had put aside a small stash of yen for manga, and Mitsuhiko was so excited he could hardly string a full sentence together; he kept bouncing as they walked.

Haibara-kun was with them too, an unusually animated expression on her usually rather quiet face; if there was one thing the blonde girl loved, it was books.  Ayumi had watched her pick them out at stores before, and it had baffled her badly; what in the world was 'physics'??  She could hardly read the title…  Haibara-kun seemed to like books about it, though, and she was always looking at the newspapers too, just like Conan.  She liked magazines as well, but they were all grown-up style magazines, not the sort of stuff Ayumi wanted to look at.   _Booooooring….._

Conan-kun had run back to his room to dig out a backpack or bag or something to carry things in; he always seemed to think of stuff like that.  But Ayumi had remembered to bring along Pocky-sticks, so _she was doing pretty good too!  The small girl had plopped down on the couch, waiting; the boys were both watching Rin-kun play a game on the computer (exclamations of "No, go left, go __LEFT!!", "Watch out for the frog, Rin— Noooo!!" and digitized engine-sounds indicated some sort of car-race or something of the sort) and Haibara-kun was flipping through one of the computer's manuals.  __*Boooooring;* Ayumi had found herself yawning._

A sound from the office-area had caught her attention; Conan was… dialing the phone?  She squirmed in impatience—they needed to get *going*, and everybody was just goofing off—

His voice carried just enough for her to hear:

"Hattori?  It's me…  Yeah, I got your email—good thing you sent me your cell number.  Listen, are you gonna be in town long?"  A pause while the unseen other end of the conversation answered; puzzled, Ayumi craned her head around the corner as she listened.  Conan was sounding funny again, more like a _grownup than a kid— _

"Good—can you meet me this evening?  Got something to tell you about, something important…..  It's about Ran.  She's—well, something's _happened to her, sort of… no, no, she's not--  Look, will you settle down?  No, I __can't tell you over the phone, I gotta go in a minute, the kids are waiting for me."  The office chair squeaked as a small body hopped up into it, settling against the cushions.  "….. yeah….. right.  Hey—you remember that park we met at last month, the one with the square fountain?  Yeah, the one at the corner of Fuji and— can you meet me there about an hour before sundown?..........  I don't know, five o'clock or something like that.  Okay?"_

Around the corner Ayumi sat up a little straighter; this didn't sound boring, it sounded *serious.*  Was there something wrong with Ran??  Her young face filled with dismay; Mouri Ran was _special; she was an adult, but she paid attention to little kids.  She listened to you when you wanted to talk, and she was nice and just __beautiful, and besides: she was Conan-kun's favorite person in the entire world.  Anybody could see that._

Or at least she had been, until she went away.

The little girl's face wrinkled in worry.  Ran-kun was in trouble—he had said that something had _happened to her—and Conan wasn't going to TELL them about it?  __Why not??  She was *their* friend too!!_

Usually he kept things from his friends because he was afraid they'd get hurt—as if _he was bigger and stronger than __they were.  He wasn't even as tall as Ayumi; really, Conan-kun was sort of a shrimp, wasn't he?  The little girl snorted to herself indignantly, listening harder than ever.  She scowled to herself, one hand fingering her favorite juggling stones in her pocket absent-mindedly._

"…No, don't bring Kazuha--  I don't know, maybe she can go shopping or something?.........  _I don't know, she's __your girlfr—okay, okay, don't have a heart attack!  Look, I've got to go.  Uh, what's that?  ….Ran--?"_

Ayumi held her breath, listening; her friend's voice carried faintly but clearly, and there was a strange, sad-but-happy sound to it.  "No, she… no.  And _yes, sort of.  She won't be there, not exactly….. and at the same time, she __will…..  Hey, you're the Great Detective of the West, right?  Figure it out—"_

A burst of static and a squeak of springs made Ayumi peer carefully around the corner; Conan-kun was leaning back in the office chair and holding the receiver well away from his ear, half-wincing, half-laughing.  His glasses were off, laying loose on the desk in front of him; she wondered how well he could see without them.  As the tirade on the other end ground down he brought the receiver back to a more normal position, grinning.  "Finished?  Good…..  Hey—do you talk to your mom like that?…..  Uh huh; right.  And don't worry, you'll understand when you see us—yeah, 'us'.  I've got somebody I want you to meet."  The boy's smile faltered a little as he laughed a little sadly, a little wryly; he slid his glasses back into place with the air of someone putting on armor.  "But… you might as well plan on never seeing Ran again, though….. or at least probably not for a very long time."

_……….. **plan on never seeing Ran again………….**_

The words hit Ayumi like a blow; she sat stock-still, shocked, her mouth hanging open.

"Why aren't I freaking out?  Uhh-- never mind, I'll explain when you get here, okay?  …..Tough.  Jaa ne."  The receiver clattered as he hung up_.  "Thatought to teach him to call me 'Kudo' in public," Conan said softly to nobody in particular._

Silence, then the thud of two small feet hitting the carpet and the creak of the office chair spinning.

When Conan came around the corner he found Genta and Mitsuhiko commiserating with Rin regarding her terrible scoring rates in computer games; he looked around, a frown on his face.  "Where's Ayumi-kun?"

Genta jerked his head towards the hallway, eyes never leaving the screen as he reached for the mouse.  "Uhhhh… bathroom?… she just went by.  Rin-kun?  Did you know you can use the right-click to go faster?"

The brown-haired young girl studied the mouse for a moment; one eyebrow crooked up as she shook her head.  "I'm really not that good with racing games… I like things like Street Fighter or Twin Dragon Fists a lot more," she confessed, handing it over and sliding down from the seat; Genta eagerly hopped up into her place, resetting the game as Conan chuckled.  

He pushed his glasses back up his nose with one finger, leaning back against the wall beside Rin; their shoulders brushed and she shot him an amused glance as he cocked his head sideways to look at her.  "Why are all the girls I know violent types?" he asked the air aloud.

"Takes one to know one," she retorted, dark eyes sparkling.

Mitsuhiko scowled at the two of them. _"Haibara-kun's not violent—" (seated next to the window, Ai closed her book and shot Conan a slightly amused glance) "and Ayumi-kun isn't either—"  He paused, his thin face considering; it fell a little as he continued doubtfully; "—except that she's been learning that karate stuff, and….."  The freckled boy's words trailed off as his eyes widened.  Meeting Conan's amused gaze, he nodded dolefully; "Why __*are* all the girls we know so mean?"_

The closing of a door made them all turn a little; Mitsuhiko shut up abruptly as Ayumi wandered up to lean on the wall beside Rin, her small face a little troubled.  "What's wrong, Ayumi-chan?" asked the other girl, noting her expression and the slight pallor that accompanied it; "Are you feeling okay?"  She reached up to lay a hand across her friend's forehead.  "You don't feel sick, do you?"

The gradeschooler shook her head, leaning down to pick up her backpack.  "I'm okay.  Are we _going yet?"  Ayumi marched past the other kids to pause at the door heading outside impatiently; "Come ON!  All the good stuff'll be gone!"  She sounded almost normal, but as she turned to clatter down the stairs her eyes would not meet Rin's._

Or Conan's.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The bus-ride to the library sale had been too long for Ayumi; all the while the others had chattered and laughed and counted their money, she had watched silently, thinking _hard.  Thinking about Ran-kun….. and Rin-kun….._

….. and things that she had heard, and had seen over the past few months; things her young mind had put aside, but now seized greedily on, things she would really rather not remember:

_(__A screech of brakes… and there was Sonoko-kun hanging half out of the taxi-window.  "Raaaaan-chan!  He took off!!!  I watched him—he drove away in a hurry and he looked absolutely WIRED—he acted like a maniac!! and I got a taxi as quick as I could but I lost the jerk, and then I saw your mom's car and—"  She halted, her mouth open; it took a moment for the Suzuki Mental Playback to engage, but when it did her eyes widened and she paled.  "I—I mean RIN-kun, of course… and that's your obaa-san, not your mom….. h-heh; silly me!  Guess it's just habit, what with you looking so much like Ran and all…..")_

That had been strange, really strange.  And later, when they had found Conan at last—she had been puzzled all over again to hear Mouri-tantei calling the little girl by his daughter's name (_"Ran, get __out_ of here!  You're just going to trip over something and get hurt and Eri'll have my skin for it—")._  Ayumi hadn't paid much attention at the time, but….._

Now, sitting on the bus, she clasped her arms around her backpack and rested her chin on the top.  Rin-kun was talking to Conan again—they were sitting side by side, just like they always did.  And Conan-kun looked… well, he looked _happy._  Ayumi tried to puzzle it out; it wasn't that he didn't look happy other times, but somehow there had always been something hiding behind his eyes most of the time, almost like a headache—or maybe some other kind of pain.  And now, ever since Rin-kun had come, it had gone away.

Ever since Rin-kun had come….. and Ran-kun had disappeared.  And in the back of her mind (a mind still young enough to believe in magic and in things that _seemed_ like magic), the first real suspicions of what might have happened came together—

_……….. **plan on never seeing Ran again………….**_

She had to know.  Conan-kun wouldn't tell her, she was sure of that, and neither would Rin-kun, because—

_--because—_

Never mind.  She was just going to have to find out on her own.

Ayumi bit her lip, secretly fingering the cherished radio-badge in her pocket; it looked like she was going to have to do _this one by herself, because if she told Mitsuhiko or Genta what she was thinking, they'd blab it all over the place.  Boys were like that._

She sighed; _*Sometimes it's HARD being a detective.*_

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Yo, Kudo---!!"

The voice yanked Ayumi's wandering attention back to the scene below with an abrupt jerk.  A tall figure, rangy and long-limbed and wearing a sports cap was striding towards the figures below; _Heiji__-san.  Ayumi shrank a little further down into her protective cup of branches.  She didn't know the teenager well; they had only met a few times, and she had always hung back from him a bit.  He was nice, she knew that—but he was an *adult*, and so….._

_(WHY was he always calling Conan-kun 'Kudo'???  That was just silly; everyone knew that Kudo was Ran-kun's boyfriend, and he wasn't here right now… just like Ran wasn't here either.)_

She could see the top of the young man's head; he always wore that white hat, and the little girl wondered (quite seriously) if he slept in it.   Maybe he had a bald spot on top of his head like Inspector Magure-san did?  But Magure-san was *old*, and Heiji-san wasn't.  Oh well, adults didn't make much sense anyway—

They were talking now; she shifted slightly, peeking between the limbs with one eye.  Rin-kun had pulled back a little and was standing off to one side in the shadows of the trees, looking more than a little shy; was Conan-kun going to introduce her to Heiji-san?  They got along awfully well, almost like the older boy was Conan's big brother.  But what did _he have to do with Ran-kun??_

Settling herself securely in the cup of branches, Ayumi listened guiltily…..

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Conan rolled his eyes in exasperation.  "WHY do you keep calling me that in public?  C'mon, Hattori, repeat after me:  'Conan'…. Cooooo-Nan.  Can you say 'Conan'?  _Sure you can….."_

Heiji growled at him.  "You've been watching reruns of those American kiddy shows, haven't you?"  The boy merely peered up at him innocently through his bangs.  Behind him a giggle sounded from beneath the trees, and the Osaka youth frowned.  "Uh, Ku—ummmm… C-c-co—  Heh…..  Err, who's the kid?"

Conan met his frown with a scowl of his own.  "Say my name first."

"Cut the crap, Kudo—who's the little girl?"

Nothing but scowling silence; the gradeschooler folded his arms and glared stubbornly.

"Oh, for _crying out loud—"_

Stonewall.  The giggle was now full-fledged laughter, soft and lilting.  Conan's lips twitched slightly as he fought back a grin.

"Okay, OKAY!!  C-Conan!  _There!  Conan-kun!  Edogawa Conan, Child Genius!  Are you __happy now?"  Heiji waved his hands in the air over his head.  "I don't see why it matters so much—it's not like it's your *real* name, anyway—"  He snorted, but the sound had as much reluctant laughter in it as indignation._

(Above them both, leaves rustled in agitation.)

The boy smirked up at him.  "Just had to hear you finally _say it, that's all….."_

Now _Heiji rolled his eyes.  "Was there actually a purpose to this meeting, Kudo, or did you just call me up to get on my nerves?"  The Kansai native raised one expressive eyebrow, motioning towards the still-chuckling little girl a half-dozen yards away or so with a thumb.  "You said you had somebody to introduce me to— her?  Does she have something to do with a case? and what's all this about Ran-kun, anyway?  You sounded sort of weird on the phone….."  He frowned, crossing his arms; "Does this have anything to do with that drug dealer mess you told me about a few months ago?" he demanded, a faint line of worry showing on his forehead._

Conan glanced involuntarily over his shoulder; there was a certain air of wanting-to-bolt about him and he visibly braced himself  as if to deliver bad news.  "Well… no, not exactly…..  Not at all, really…..  I mean, they both happened at about the same time, but….."  The boy's voice trailed off; he scuffled his sneaker-toes in the grass underfoot, looking down.

A slightly impatient throat-clearing noise came from behind him, and a quietly muttered "Shin_ichi….." in a warning tone.  Heiji's eyes widened.  "She knows who you are??" he hissed, eyebrows climbing towards his hatbrim.  "Are you __nuts??"_

Conan snorted, crossing his arms in unconscious mimicry and shooting an amused glance up at the tall youth.  "Like her saying that out loud in a quiet park is any worse than you calling me _Kudo in public places?  Anyway, yeah, she knows."  He laughed near-silently, lowering his voice.  "She knows everything there is to know about me, about the whole mess—from a pretty personal viewpoint, too…"  He scratched at his head, half-turning to look over his shoulder.  "Rin--?"_

The little girl walked up, her tennishoed feet making very little noise on the soft grass; she stopped a few feet behind Conan, hanging back a little uncertainly as she smiled up at the Kansai detective.  He stared down, a faint look of puzzlement creasing his tanned features; "Um, hi?"

The boy he insisted on calling 'Kudo' stepped back slightly, turning his head to smile a little at the child beside him as Heiji's expression grew even more perplexed.  "Hattori Heiji, meet Himitsu Rin."

"Uhhhhh…"  The young man hesitated, kneeling on the grass to shake the offered hand.  "Hajimemashite, Rin…."  He blinked, taking in the brown hair, the dark eyes, the expression of shy amusement.  "Do I—_know you from somewhere, ojochan?"_

"Yuroshiku, Heiji-kun….. you *could_* say that, yes."   Laughter twinkled in her gaze; she reached up to tug gently at the omamori hanging around his neck.  "I know what's in __this, for one thing—  Do you still have that note that Kazuha-kun pinned on the back?"_

He sat back on his heels, totally baffled.  "Now, how the—I mean, _how do you know about that?"  A slight blush stained his dark cheeks.  "Kudo!  You been telling stupid tales about me?  I'll drop-kick you into the nearest pond if you have, I swear—"_

Another tug on the cord around his neck interrupted him.  "You'd better not…..  I'm *still* pretty good at karate, no matter what I look like now….."  She tilted her head a little to one side, regarding his startled face teasingly.  "I ought to be mad at you, you know, keeping the truth about Conan from me all this time—maybe I _should tell Kazuha on you….."_

A wordless splutter from the boy beside her indicated that this was a bad idea and she shrugged her small shoulders, completely at ease now that the two males had been so totally discomfited.  "Well?"  She stepped back, holding her arms out to either side and turning in place as if displaying a new set of clothes.  "What do you think?"  She beamed up at the young man, who suddenly swayed in place as if someone had struck him; he slowly rose to his feet, eyes bugging out in utter shock.  "How do I look?"

Heiji opened his mouth; a faint croaking noise issued, but nothing intelligible came out.

"Apparently the penny just dropped," remarked Conan dryly.  He reached up to tug on his fellow detective's shirt-tail.  "C'mon, Osakajin—let's go sit over by the fountain; you look like you're going to fall over, and if you do we're just going to have to leave you.  You're too big for us to carry."

Mutely the young man allowed himself to be towed along out of the clearing towards the fountain several hundred feet away; his eyes never moved from Rin's face, and if anything they got wider as she smiled serenely up at him.  "Don't take it so hard, Heiji-kun—it's okay, really it is."

Heiji swallowed hard, still trying to speak; "Urk?"

Surveying the shocked face above his, Conan allowed a smile of pure contentment to slowly spread across his own features; he suddenly seemed much more cheerful as he pulled the much taller figure along docilely behind him.   "You know, Rin?  This _was a good idea, after all….."_

"Urk?  Aaack??"

"C'mon, genius—"

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Well, _THAT hadn't made any sense at __all._

Ayumi frowned severely to herself, craning her head around a branch as the trio walked off into the distance.  She hadn't been able to make out everything they had said—distance and the rustle of leaves had blocked the softer speech—and now she couldn't hear them  anymore.  But she had head enough to make her worry.  And wonder…..

_*Don't be silly* she scolded herself, hanging half-out of the cup of branches; her legs were cramped from sitting still for so long in one position.  __*People don't—don't REALLY do stuff like you were thinking…..  That only happens in fairy tales and on TV.  People don't… change… like that.  Not really.  You're not a baby anymore, you know that sort of stuff isn't real…..*_

_*But--*_

_*Conan always says 'There's only one truth.'  He says to look at the evidence, see what's really there, not what people want you to see.  He says that most of the things people miss are because they don't bother to look…..*_

_( "Raaaaan-chan!"_ shouted Sonoko-kun in her memory---)

_("Ran, get out of here!" snapped Mouri-tantei---)_

_(--"I'm *still* pretty good at karate, no matter what I look like now…..  Well?  What do you think?  How do I look?........  Don't take it so hard, Heiji-kun—it's okay, really it is--")_

It was a long time before the gradeschooler even thought of climbing down; not until the shadows from the trees had filled the clearing, not until the sun had nearly set and her friends had long since left together.  Not until the secrets that had suddenly become so important to her had snarled and tangled themselves into such a knot that only talking to someone who Ayumi knew would _really listen would help._

_*I—want to tell 'Kaasan, but if I do she'll tell Mouri-tantei and HE'll laugh at me, I know he will.  Or she'll tell Eri-san and I don't know her very well yet, though she's awfully nice.  If I tell Mitsuhiko-kun or Genta-kun they'll tell Conan; boys can't keep secrets at all.   Sonoko-kun says they can't keep their traps buttoned.  And Agasa-san is nice, but…..  And Ai-kun might be okay to tell, but sometimes she's really hard to talk to.  So…..*_

_*Hei-san…  I need to talk to Hei-san.*_

She began to clamber down from her perch.  As her feet automatically found footholds that most children her age would have missed, another question began to circle like a shark through her mind, fin showing ominously:

_*….. why did they say all that stuff about Conan's name not really being his?  THAT doesn't make sense either…..*_

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Hattori Heiji *STARED* at the small girl seated so comfortably on the fountain's rim, toes dangling in the water.  "You… did… _WHAT?!?"_

She winced.  "Don't yell, Heiji-kun!  My ears may be smaller, but I can hear just _fine, I promise you.  And you heard me right, or you wouldn't be reacting like this.  I took one of the same pills that made Shinichi into Conan."  Rin glanced up, a strangely gentle smile on her heart-shaped face; the object of her contemplation had walked away for a few moments, giving her a little space to tell her story in.  "How else could I keep them both?" she pointed out, leaning over to trail one finger across the water's moving surface._

Spray glistened on her companion's dark skin, beaded on his black hair where it stuck out from under the cap.  "Ran… Rin….. "  He still seemed nearly incapable of speech as he plunked down on the concrete beside her.  "But--- but **_why??__"  He seemed honestly bewildered and more than a little distressed._**

She sighed, leaning back and pulling up her legs to rest bare feet on the fountain's rim; clasping her knees, Rin met his eyes with her own candid gaze.  "Heiji-kun….. if you knew, *really* knew that Kazuha was in trouble, and the only way you could help her was to do something like this—would you do it?"

He was silent for a long moment; she could see the wonder and shock still churning in his eyes, knocking down his defenses and making him consider things the Osakajin would normally have brushed aside.  "If… it was the only way….. um.  Yeah.  I guess I would."  Heiji immediately flushed at his own words, looking up and beginning to open his mouth again.

With a giggle she beat him to it; "Don't worry, I won't tell on you—but do you see?"  Looking away, she continued in a much softer tone.  "Conan… Shinichi _told me everything, and when the chance came I had to take it…..  I couldn't afford to wait.  I told him later that it was like a subway train: the chance arrived, it was there for just a moment, and then it was gone.  If I didn't hop on board then, we'd never manage to stay together."  _

Her own cheeks burned a little as she watched the boy on the other side of the fountain through the veil of falling water; his dark blue gaze flashed across at her for a second, then was gone as he turned away.  Even from where she sat she could tell he was feeling guilty again, and she sighed; that was something they still had to work on now and then.  _*But that's okay; someday he'll figure out that this is really what I wanted, and that it wasn't such a sacrifice after all.  When you want something enough, it's worth more than what you pay for it… and that's what people call a bargain, isn't it?*_

"Was it…_worth it, Ran?  Uhhhh, Rin?" asked the young man beside her quietly, his words echoing her thoughts.  "I mean, you were nearly eighteen—you had your whole life in front of you--  Hell, you'd be graduating high school this year!"_

"I know."

He groaned, his face darkening as he turned sharply to glare at the boy on the other side of the water; Conan was perched on the rim as well, legs swinging as he stared off across the park.  His face was in profile, looking absurdly young….. but there was nothing young about his expression in that moment; Heiji had never seen such a strange combination of profound guilt, relief and resignation.  The teenager's own anger faded a little at the sight, shading more into dismay and a strange sort of awe as he twisted back around to stare back at the child beside him, nearly falling into the fountain as he waved his arms in the air.

"Don't you at least *_regret it*??  I mean— ****__God, Ran—you're a __little girl!  It's one thing to have it happen to you like __HE did, but to do it deliberately—"  Words failed him again; the Osaka detective simply sat and goggled at her, eyes large with a kind of aghast wonder.  "This is….. it's… just….."  He swallowed hard._

Ran looked away again, down at the water; a young green maple leaf floated there like a tiny boat, its surface misted and glittering.  With one chilly toe she reached out and nudged it, sending it drifting over to bump into another.  The two small leaves clung together, companions in misfortune; Ran smiled at the possibly-too-obvious analogy and pulled her foot back up.

"Of **course I regret it.  I miss being big—I miss all sorts of things.  I miss my school, my friends—basic stuff like being able to reach a counter without climbing on something, or getting to wear my old clothes or sleep in a bed that's not so big I practically get lost in it….."  She took a deep breath.  "I miss hearing my old voice when I talk, being able to look adults right in the face, being—being the age where people look at you and see a _*person*, not just a kid….."_**

"I… miss _Mouri__ Ran.  I'll never be her again, because I had to sort of leave her behind—even when Shinichi and I grow up again, I'll be __Rin, not Ran.  Ran can't really exist anymore, except in my memories… and when I dream."  Now she blushed a little for some reason, still looking away.  "I have to learn how to be somebody else, and sometimes I'm not ready for that—sometimes it *hurts*, and sometimes I wonder what in the world I was thinking….."_

"….. but never for very long."

She paused, staring at the water with a curious little smile on her face; Heiji swallowed hard.  _*The eyes are the same… the eyes, and that smile of hers; that's how she always looked when she talked about Kudo.*_

"I do regret having to do what I did; I'm no saint, you know—ask Shinichi some time.  I'm not a martyr either; I realize that what I did was really impulsive, and I'm not the only person who's having the pay the consequences of what I chose….. but….."

The pause stretched out for a long moment.  "But?" he prompted, half afraid of what he would hear.

"You see," she said softly, "there's a big difference between regretting *having to do* something and actually regretting that you *did* it.  I've figured that out.  I regret that I had to do what I did—but I don't regret having done it."  She turned her head, steadily looking past the flow of water at the boy beyond; as if he had heard her, Conan glanced up, and the guilty look slid away as he smiled.

"It's not so bad a bargain.  Besides," she added whimsically, grinning up at Heiji with a charming little-girl grin as she slid down from the fountain's rim, "this way I get ten extra years before I *_really* have to grow up, right?"_

Heiji shook his head.  "Somebody call Peter Pan," he muttered…..

Rin gave him a Look.

He grinned at last, pushing his hat back from his forehead; he supposed he felt a little better about the whole situation now—it was hard to stay upset in the face of Rin's I-can-handle-it attitude.  "You know," he remarked, "I guess it's hitting me this way because, well, because I _knew you before you changed.  I never knew Kudo—didn't even meet him 'til after he'd become a runt.  Hell, I've only seen __him adult-sized a couple of times!  But you, though….. I remember how you *were.*"  The Osakajin shook his head._

The girl ducked her head, smiling just a little sadly.  "Think of it as just… being in storage for a while, sort of," she suggested; the Western Detective just shook his head in bafflement.

"So… what if this Ai person figures out a cure?"  Heiji just had to ask; I-can-handle-it attitude or not, she _had to hope for a cure--- Kudo damn sure wanted one—_

Rin tilted her head a little to one side, considering.  "If she does, we'll pick up where we left off, of course….. though, you know?  I think I'd miss this just a little."

Now _he gave her a Look.  __*Ran— Rin— you're weird.*_

Movement made him glance behind the girl; Conan walked up to stand behind her—and for a second Heiji had a strange, almost dizzying image flash through his mind:  _Kudo Shinichi, not Conan, looming protectively over the small figure of the girl-child with Mouri Ran's eyes--  He blinked and wondered if maybe his hat was on too tight today..… _

…..and the image faded (it had been especially disconcerting considering that Conan was actually slightly *shorter* than Rin).  "Well," the teenager said, not quite looking the boy in the face, "I guess it'd be kind of stupid of me to yell at anybody about this—except maybe that Haibara idiot, and it sounds like she's sort of paying her dues already."

He didn't miss the sigh of relief that the boy gave, or the lessening of tension in the narrow, tight shoulders.  Some of the pain in the dark blue eyes (not all, but some of it, at least) seemed to lessen, and he offered a faint half-smile to the other detective.  "Yeah."

Contemplating the two small figures before him, an unholy light began to gleam in Heiji's eyes; he grinned at last and started to chuckle wickedly.  Conan frowned, glaring up at his friend.  "What's so funny?"

_"Heh heh….. all those protests about how you two felt about each other, all those red, red faces….."  _

The two glanced at each other, faces identically red all over again… but if anything, they moved a little closer; Rin raised her chin rather belligerently, eyes snapping.  "So…?"

Totally unrepentant, he snickered down at them both.  "You make a _really cute couple.  When's the wedding?"_

She blinked; "Ask us again in ten years."  Then Rin looked at Conan; Conan looked back at Rin.  "Would you like to kick him in the ankle or shall I?" she inquired politely.

The boy smiled into her eyes.  "Be my guest….."

***thud!!***

"EEEYIPE!!"

*****************************************************************************************

_To be continued……_

_(really quickly, too; I have the next chapter mostly written, so don't kill me, okay?  My humongous thanks to Becky Tailweaver, Hauntress, Magik, Tina, Loquacious and the others for helping me with this one and all the rest!  Banzai!!!)_


	3. Learning Experiences

**Windfall**

**By Ysabet**

**_YSABET'S NOTES:  It has occurred to me that I have done a dreadful omission for this entire fic (and others)—I haven't issued a disclaimer!  Ahem:  "Detective Conan and its characters belong to the massively talented Gosho Aoyamo, before whom I bow down and chant 'I am not worthy!  I am not worthy!' on a daily basis.  Practically."  There!_**

_Chapter 3:  Learning Experiences_
    
    _                    Keep it quiet  (go slow);_
    
    _                    Circulate--  Need To Know…_
    
    _                    Stamp the date upon your file ---_
    
    _                    Masquerade, but well worth while._
    
    _                    Wrapped in the warmth of you ---  wrapped up in your smile…_
    
    _                    Wrapped in the folds of your attention…_

                                (Jethro Tull, "Under Wraps")

The week had been rather difficult for Ayumi, all told.  It's hard to keep a secret inside when you're only eight, and it's even more difficult when the secret concerns the people you see every day.

_She needed to talk to Hei-san….._

Time crept by, day following day at a snail's pace; she waited and wondered and went to school, played with her friends….. and watched Conan and Rin like a small, fledgling hawk.  Ayumi was a worrier by nature—she had seen things that few children of her age had seen (oddly enough, the criminals were more frightening to her than the occasional corpse) and tended to think about matters in a fashion that was a little more in-depth than most of her contemporaries were capable of.  She had learned by trial and error over the past year to deal with what she had seen and experienced and had become remarkably _good at coping._

But… she was still only eight, and it was hard.

So as the days slipped by from Monday towards Friday, she gathered her questions and her courage, keeping both locked inside; it was enough to give an _adult an ulcer, much less a child.  And if occasionally her eyes held a wistfulness when she watched her friends, no-one seemed to pay much attention.  Conan-kun had been watching her a little oddly lately—she __had seen that; his eyes seemed a little sharper, a little more like they got when he was being a detective…..  But no-one else seemed to notice._

(Except, perhaps, Haibara Ai.  The diminutive blonde had been eying her schoolmate speculatively during occasional moments; something was going on behind those blue-grey eyes that made Ayumi just a little nervous.  But she acted the same, if a little gentler and more patient than usual.  Now and then, though, that thoughtful gaze would switch from Ayumi to Conan and Rin… and she would become even more silent than before).

But at last the week was over; she slipped away from school with a promise to meet her friends in the usual place (they were planning to stop by the arcade on the way there, so they'd be a little late) and hotfooted it as quickly as possible towards the park.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"'Yumi-chan?  Are you _sure you can do this?"  The brown-haired young man tilted his head to one side, eyes dancing as he regarded the little girl sitting on the other branch a foot or so away._

She nodded her head firmly, swinging her feet.  "Mmhmm…..  I've been practicing _LOTS.  Here, pick one."  She held out a small, slightly grimy handful of five-yen pieces.  Silently the teenager selected one from the pile and held it up.  With extreme solemness the girl marked the coin with a rather bedraggled drawing of a smiley-face, using a black marker she had pulled from her pocket.  "Okay?  Now I need it back….."_

Grinning internally, Hei-san dropped the coin into his apprentice's left hand on top of the pile of change; she displayed it proudly for a moment, then picked it from her palm with her right hand's fingers, shoving the small heap of five-yens back into her left pocket; she carefully placed her closed right fist on _top of the pocket and looked up to make sure her friend was watching.  "Now I'm gonna make it go and join its friends…" she told her teacher seriously;  "See?  It wants back inside….."  Giggling a little, she danced her fist back and forth on across the cloth of her denim shorts-pocket, then tapped it a few times.  "Now it's mysteriously vanishing…..  see?  __Taaaa-daaaaaaaaaah__!!!"  Ayumi held her empty hands up, palm out; the coin had indeed disappeared._

She beamed at Hei-san, dark eyes gleeful.  "Well?  Where _is it??"_

He scratched at his head, feigning puzzlement.  "Huhhhh….. I dunno--- did you drop it?"  Craning his head, he peered past the child towards the grass ten feet below.  "No, I didn't see it fall—I know, you've got it between your fingers!"  His eyes widened theatrically as his student splayed her hands out, showing a distinct lack of coinage.  "Not there—well……… you _did say you were sending it to join its friends, but it beats me how you could do that…..  It __can't be in your pocket, can it?"_

Giggling, Ayumi pulled the five-yen pieces back out; the smiley-face-marked coin lay grinning lopsidedly on top of the pile.  Hei-san applauded loudly, whistling.  "Magic!  Very cool, 'Yumi-chan."  He grinned at her.  "Take a bow now, like I showed you; a good magician _always acknowledges his audience."_

Nodding seriously, the child carefully rose to her feet; she balanced on her respective branch and bowed with great gravity at her friend, then sat back down.  "Did I do good?"

The teenager nodded appreciatively.  _"Very good; just right."   He cocked his head to one side.  "Did you ever get that 'floating chopstick' trick to work for you?"_

Ayumi pulled a face_.  "Allllllllmost……  I still can't do it as good as you can, though; your fingers are bigger."  A leaf fell past her nose, drifting downwards towards the ground; she leaned over a little to watch it land, fidgeting a little.  "I'll keep practicing….. can you show me a new trick today, Hei-san?"  She raised large, hopeful brown eyes to his face and he chuckled._

"Well……"

"Pleeeeeeeeeeease??  Pretty please???"

Hei-san ran one hand through his hair, making it stand on end even more than usual.  As if he needed to be asked twice to do magic…..  "Hold your hand out, palms down—  Now, close your eyes and think really hard about… peacocks."  He placed his hands palm-up a few inches below hers.

The child's eyes nearly popped out.  "PEACOCKS?!?  You're gonna make a _PEACOCK appear???"_

Her teacher nodded calmly, poker-face well in place; only the gleam of humor in his dark blue eyes gave him away.  "Think really ***_hard__* about them, now….."  His apprentice blinked at him dubiously, then closed her eyes and concentrated.  Once she had shut her eyes he grinned in approval and shifted slightly on his branch; now, where was it--?  __*Oh, right…..  Back of the jacket.  Damn feathers always tickle when I let 'em hide in the front….. wake up, bird, it's showtime!  C'mon, down the sleeve you go…..*  _**

A second or two later Ayumi's eyes flew back open at the feeling of wings fluttering against her palms.  "IT'S A…… awwwww--- it's NOT a peacock!"  The white dove perched on Hei-san's fingers and cooed soothingly at the child; it tilted its head to one side much like its master had a moment before.

The magician shrugged; "You weren't concentrating hard enough….. all I could manage was a dove.  Oh well; peacocks are too noisy, anyway.  Doves are quieter and a lot brighter too, y'know."  At his gentle prompting the bird pigeon-toed its way up Ayumi's arm to perch among her brown hair on top of her head; she wriggled as it pecked at her hairband.

Hei-san watched in satisfaction as his young student reached up a finger for the dove to hop onto; the kid didn't seem to be the least bit afraid of birds, which was good.  A magician who was afraid of doves might as well be afraid of pulling rabbits from hats— hmm; sooner or later he'd have to see about giving her one or two doves of her own, if her mom would allow it.  The teenager reached across one finger to stroke the bird's neck; it cooed, tugging at the frayed cuff of his somewhat scruffy shirt with its beak.

He'd come to the conclusion lately that it really _*was* fun, having a little sister; he'd been missing out._

As she stroked the bird's soft breast-feathers Hei-san glanced at her sideways while seeming to look out over the park.  It hadn't escaped his notice that she seemed more than a little downcast when they met that day—the whole "show me what you've learned this week" bit had been specifically to cheer her up.  To a certain extent it had worked; Ayumi-chan had displayed her new trick (one of a half-dozen or so he had managed to teach her over the past few months) with alacrity….. but he could still see shadows under her brown eyes and a faint pallor to her cheeks.  Something was bugging the kid—

"Ayumi?" he asked; she was still petting the dove, who had nestled itself comfortably down into her lap.  "Is something wrong?  You're awfully quiet today….."

The little girl hesitated; all the smiles that her new accomplishment and the appearance of the "peacock" had produced seeped away, leaving her looking a little lost.  "I….. sort of."  Her chin dropped, and she stared back down at the dove again; it cooed blissfully as she scratched one small finger in the good place behind its head.  "There's something I want to ask you about--- but…."  Her words crawled to a halt and she bit her lip.

Hei-san blinked out at the park, still watching her from the corner of his eye.  "But what?  C'mon, 'Yumi-chan--- ask away.  What's the problem?"

"Ummmmm….."  

He waited; hurrying this kid was a _BAD idea, he had found.  She was stubborn as a mule—as no doubt The Shrimp and her other friends could tell anyone.  __Speaking of which….. he suddenly had a feeling…..  "Ahhh, 'Yumi-chan?  Does this have anything to do with Conan?"_

The girl's jaw dropped; "H-how---??  Hei-san, how did you _know?!?"_

The magician laughed wryly, cracking his knuckles as he stretched.  "Conan-kun… is, well, a rather _unusual kid; if anything strange or problematic is going on, it probably has to do with him.  Just a guess—but I'm right, aren't I?"_

She nodded gloomily, considering what he had just said.  "Prob-lem-atic….. that's a good word.  It means full of problems, right?"   Ayumi stared down at the ground below her feet; one tennishoe drooped a little, half off her foot.  She kicked experimentally and the shoe fell off, dropping to land with the softest of thuds on the grass.

Hei-san could recognize evasion when he saw it; he was pretty damned good at it himself, after all.  Contemplating the child's action, he shrugged and kicked one of his own shoes off—it made a rather larger thud as it landed next to hers.  "Suppose you start by telling me what's bothering you, hm?  Don't worry if it doesn't seem to make sense…..  There's a lot of things about The Shri—I mean, about _Conan-kun that *don't* seem to make sense when you really look at them close-up."_

_*….. and MAN is that putting it mildly…..*_

The girl still stared at the ground, face troubled.

Her teacher sighed, trying to think back to how his father had gotten _him to talk about things that bothered him.  Oddly enough, though, it was the image of his mother kneeling before the gradeschooler he had once been and talking soothingly that came to mind.  He cleared his throat gently, remembering.  "'Yumi?  I promise I won't laugh at you, no matter what you say; I won't just pretend it's not real because you're a kid—hey, I listen to you, don't I?  If I didn't, you wouldn't be trying to tell me this, right?"_

Still there was only silence.  Hei-san sighed internally; having a little sister was fun, but it took a helluva lot more patience than he had expected as well….. maybe this _was too hard for the kid.  "If you don't want to talk about it, then… we won't.  But if you want to, I'm here, y'know?"_

Mumble, mumble…..  "What?"  Her words had been, apparently, in Ayumi-Speak or something like that—he hadn't understood a bit of it.

"….. Idon'twanttogetthemintrouble….."

_*--Oh.*  _

"Ayumi-chan, I can honestly swear to you that I'm the _last person to go playing tattletail."  He snorted internally at the idea.  __*Glass houses, throwing stones and all that tripe…..  Once you decide to be a 'villain' (even if you're not an Official Bad Guy), you sort of lose the right to rat on anybody else—unless it's something REALLY wrong, like that Ojiwa bastard a while back.  Union Rules or something like that, probably.* _

"But….."  

Hei-san decided to let the subject drop; if his little apprentice felt _that uncomfortable about it, then--  "Never mind.  If you feel like talking, I'm right here, though.  Wanna climb down and work on some two-person juggling?  I told you we'd start on it today if you wanted to—"_

Her words came in a rush, half tripping one over the other in their hurry.  "No!  No, I *want* to talk about it, I just don't want to—I mean, I'm not sure if—See, it's not really _Conan-kun I need to ask you about, except for sort of, mostly it's __Rin-kun and I'm not really absolutely positively SURE about her, butshegotcalled__RANinsteadof__RIN__… andIthinkthatjustmaybe… she's….. exceptthat'sSILLY andIknowIshouldaskher ButIdon't__wanttoaskheraboutitand—"_

"Whoa, whoa!!  Slow down, kid….."  Hei-san stared down at the girl, his eyebrows climbing towards his hairline.   _*Uh oh..... crap.  Now, the question is, do I pull Kudo and his girlfriend's fat out of the fire for them or let Ayumi-chan ask questions they don't want to hear?*  "Go a little slower, okay?  Tell me what's bothering you—"_

And it all came pouring out then:  Her newest friend Rin, the strangeness in her eyes, Mouri Ran's disappearance, the likeness between the two, the suspicions and the questions and the mistakes people had made--  "…and I _*know* people don't—they aren't really __*supposed* to be able to change from adults to little kids, but….. but Hei-san?  Conan-kun said there's only one truth, and I—I think I know what it is.  I don't know __HOW it could be true….. but I think it is.  I really, really do.  Hei-san?  What would __*you* do??"_

She was staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes; dammit, she _trusted him, she wasn't an idiot (people tended to forget that young did __*not* mean stupid), she was just a little kid….._

….. unlike a certain pair who really (all things considered) should be capable of looking out for their _own Vertically-Challenged selves….._

The magician sighed, wondering how the hell he had ended up in this position.  "'Yumi-chan?  _WHY don't you want to ask Rin-kun about it?  Are you afraid she'll laugh at you, or maybe stop being friends with you?  Is that it?"_

Nod, nod; the tearful brown eyes never left his… and not once, not even for a second did she seem to have the faintest doubt that he _believed her.  That kind of faith was a little staggering._

"Hmmmmm……."  Hei-san edged out a little further along his branch; without really thinking about it he lay back in his favorite position, hands behind his head, stretched out like an upside-down, sunning iguana.  "Y'know, Ayumi-chan, I remember my dad telling me something when I was nearly your age—I didn't really understand it at the time, but it makes sense to me now_.  'Trust your friends—but deal the cards yourself.'"  He blinked up at the sunlight filtering through the leaves.  "D'you know what that means?"_

Solemnly the child shook her head; "Noooooo…..?"  She frowned a little at his position, then gingerly leaned back on her own (fortunately _broader) branch.  After wriggling for a minute or two she decided that she was comfortable and relaxed; the magician watched her from the corner of his eye, marveling at the flexibility of kids.   _

"It means that it's a good thing to trust the people you care for and believe in them—be good to them, and they'll probably be good to you, all that sort of stuff—but it _also means that there's nothing wrong with making sure things go __*your* way as well.  I mean, it's like this—" and he pulled one hand from behind his head.  Suddenly there was a deck of cards in the hand; Hei-san fanned them out and held them towards his apprentice.  "Pick a card…..  Queen of Hearts, right?  Right.  Now, __THAT was a magic trick—since it was a trick, it's *okay* for me to make the cards come out like I want them to.  If I was playing poker with my friends, that'd be cheating, because they'd be betting money or whatever, and winning just for myself wouldn't be fair.  But in a trick, the magician wins and the audience wins too when the trick goes right.  You understand?"_

"Welll……"  Ayumi blinked a little, eyes crinkled in thought as she stared at the card in her hand.  "You mean….. if I'm doing stuff *just* for me, it's not fair to cheat—but if I'm doing it for more than just me, it's okay?  I thought cheating was bad---"  She shifted a little, regaining the balance that her reach for the card had slightly thrown off.

The magician squirmed a little internally; the word 'cheating' was a sore spot with him.  "Umm, I wouldn't exactly call it _cheating, not so long as nobody gets hurt….. it's more like arranging the circumstances to suit yourself.  Like……"  He thought hard; the deck of cards disappeared into somewhere or other as he absently scratched at his head.  "Well….. what if I were going to have to do something really, really difficult, like…. I dunno, what's your hardest subject at school, 'Yumi-chan?"_

The child made a face.  "Math.  I _*hate* math!  Yuck!!"  She handed the card back._

"Okay, what if I was gonna have to take a really hard math-test?  I could just go in there without studying, or not listen in class when the teacher tries to tell us about what we need to know, or do my homework….. or I could study and listen and do my homework and get ready for the test, so that I'd get a better grade.  The _*test* wouldn't be any different—but how I reacted to it would.  That's not the same as cheating—it's just good preparation.  You understand now?"_

Ayumi's face cleared; she turned a little, unconsciously propping herself on one elbow as she turned to her friend.  "Uh huh; that makes sense.  But how will that make it easier for me to… to talk to Rin-kun?"

Still lying stretched out, Hei-san shrugged; a piece of bark crumbled beneath his movement and dropped into the grass below.  "You can wait until somebody goofs and calls her Ran again, or you can stay worried and afraid to talk about it with her and Conan-kun….. or you can set things up yourself, get ready, and ask her point-blank if she's really Ran or not.  Isn't that better than stewing over it and getting upset all over the place?"  

He sighed.  "When I was a kid, one of the things I liked best about learning magic tricks was that you're sort of in control over something—every trick belongs to *you*; you make the right card appear, or the rabbit pop out of the hat, or the chopstick float in the air.  Kids don't have much chance for control….. they don't need to, usually.  But 'Yumi-chan, if this is really bothering you, I'd go for it and ask Rin-kun.  After all, she's your friend, right?"

The child's eyes dropped to the shadows of the trees, ten feet or so below.  "… _'Trust your friends…..'" she quoted softly, biting her lip._

_"'… but deal the cards yourself.'  Right.  There's nothing wrong with helping yourself, especially if it helps somebody else.  Maybe __Rin would feel better about talking to you?  Maybe she's worried about you figuring things out too?  You never can tell.  And—as for Conan….."  Mentally he gritted his teeth; __*Dammit, Kudo--*  "You're just going to have to ask him too, right?  If you're worried about something, the best thing you can do is change it from a worry into something you understand."_

He chuckled to himself silently and perhaps a little unkindly, propping one ankle across the other.  _*I'll bet The Runt is worrying, too… there's no way he'd miss something like this.  Ayumi-chan, you're coming along really well, but you still can't hide a thing you're thinking—your face gives it all away.  If it wasn't bothering you so much (and when the hell did I get so damned protective?) I'd suggest you let 'em worry—but I don't like you feeling bad about this any more than I would Aoko.  Oh yeah, speaking of which….*  _

He half-frowned a little, a slight heat beginning to make itself felt around his ears and cheekbones.  "Hey, Ayumi?  Ummmm… you've heard me talk about Aoko a couple of times, right?"

His student blinked.  "Uh huh—she's that girl in your class, the one that hits you with a mop sometimes."

_"Chases me with a mop, __chases me with a mop---" said Hei-san hurriedly (and a tad huffily); Ayumi giggled in response.  "Yeah, that one.  She—well, she's got a birthday coming up… next week, in fact.  Whatcha think… would she like this as a present?" He  held one hand out; from apparent nothingness something appeared on his palm to lie gleaming in the afternoon sunlight:  a thin silver chain with a tiny, delicate floral pendant hanging from it.  The gleaming leaves and stems formed a wreath, perfect and exquisite; Ayumi's exclamation of delight (and near departure from her branch, save for a steadying hand) was all the answer he needed._

Of course, if you looked at the design _*carefully*, you'd notice that the wreath was made up of infinitely miniscule four-leaf-clovers…..  He smiled to himself as he made it disappear again, tucking the present securely away.  __*THAT ought to bring about an interesting reaction….. I wonder what she'll do?  I've never given Aoko anything even remotely  like this before.*  _

Truth to tell, he couldn't quite bring himself to define the reason that had made him pick such an item, besides the inherent joke in the four-leaf clovers (though somehow he just *loved* the idea of her wearing the Kid's own personal trademark; it made something deep inside him do absolute backflips).  Maybe… maybe it was _because he had never given her a gift of this sort; maybe it was just… time._

Maybe he was overanalyzing it; yeah.  Sometimes you just had to play your cards by instinct and do what felt right.  _*And isn't that essentially what you just told 'Yumi-chan?  Practice what you preach, Thief Boy--*_

He glanced across at his apprentice; she had leaned back again on her branch, mirroring her teacher in pose, hands clasped behind her head.  It was really very funny—  he had caught her mimicking him more and more often as the last few months had progressed.   Just one more thing he had to get used to—the Kid was accustomed to a certain acclaim (well_, notoriety might be a better word); but Kuroba Kaito, currently Hei-san, wasn't._

Movement off across the park caught his eye:  small figures, five of them.  _*Looks like they've got that little blonde with 'em today; something about that kid gives me the creeps just a bit.  Wonder why?  Oh well….. back to the main topic before I leave.*  "Uh, Ayumi?  Here comes your friends….  I gotta go."  He took a deep breath as the girl's face fell a little—their talk was over for the day.  "Well, 'Yumi-chan?  D'you think you can do it?  Ask Rin-kun about the truth, I mean?_

The girl bit her lip unhappily, a determined look settling on her young face; she carefully sat up and swung her legs around to dangle in front of her, attention apparently fixed on her toes.  After a long minute she spoke:  "I—_think so, Hei-san.  It won't be easy, but…..  I guess you're right.  You and Conan-kun, you both say good stuff—I'm gonna listen to both of you."_

He blinked, also sitting up.  Of all the odd things to hear…..  _"BOTH of us?"_

She nodded firmly, her small jaw set.  "Uh huh.  You said 'Trust your friends' and he said 'There's only one truth.'  So… I'm going to ask Rin-kun, and I'm going to trust her to tell me the truth."

That simple statement set him aback a little, and he stared in amazement at the little girl.  _*Ayumi-chan, you're pretty damned smart, you know that?  Pretty damned smart….. and now I'm beginning to wonder:  What will *I* say to you someday if you ask ME questions and trust ME to tell you the truth?*_

But….. she was doing what he had suggested—going on instinct, doing the right thing.  He sighed, allowing a smile to cross his face.  "You know what, Ayumi?  I think you've made a good choice.  Now…..  Now you've got to figure out how you're gonna play your magic act—time to pick the stage and figure out the *how* and *when* for the whole thing."  He scratched at his head, eyeing the determined child in front of him with a small grin.  "Wish I could be there for the show, Ayumi-chan… I'll bet you'll do it just right."

He rose to his feet, stretching a little as he began the quick climb down.  _*Good luck on pulling this rabbit out of its hat, imoutochan; I think you'll need it.  And so will I, when Conan-kun figures out that somebody else knows about him…..*_

* * * * * * * * * * * *

It was only two days later when the _*how* and the __*when* came together to present the proper opportunity; Ayumi had kept watching, just as Hei-san had said—watching for the right opportunity, the right stage._

_'Trust your friends… but deal the cards yourself.'_

 They were all upstairs at Mouri-tantei's place, sprawled across his couch and his floor, reading.  Genta and Mitsuhiko still had a surprisingly large stockpile of manga left over from the library book sale that hadn't yet been read by the others (although Ai-kun didn't seem too interested; she was busy going through a huge stack of some American magazines called (she had told them) _Popular Science).  So the lazy Sunday after Ayumi's talk had them all in one place, faces stuck in books._

Rin and Conan had commandeered the couch; the girl sat cross-legged at one end with a manga volume in her lap while the boy lay stretched lengthwise, chin propped on his elbows beside her.  He had grumbled slightly at her choice (_"Fruits Basket is a shoujo manga....") but seemed disinclined to put up much of a fuss or pick out one of his own.  Genta and Mitsuhiko were plowing steadily through old tankoubon of __Inu__ Yasha, and Ayumi had settled down with her own pile of __Ushio to Tora._

She turned a page, concentrating; Ushio had just fought some sort of huge youkai with one horn and a body made out of snakes—she shivered, glad things like that didn't happen in the real world.  Things were going bad for the bakemono-slayer, but she knew it would turn out all right; Tora would show up and help!!!  Ayumi really liked Tora, as big and scary as he was…..  

(Her mind winced, remembering Ojiwa-sensei from months past; there were scarier things than monsters in the world.)

Footsteps and the _clink-clink of ice in a glass made everybody look up; Eri-san was standing in the doorway, purse over her shoulder and a tray full of glasses in her hands.  "We're about to go out, so I thought I'd bring you all a little something to drink before we go—reading is thirsty work."  The woman's eyes flashed in amusement as Conan hastily sat upright and scooted a few inches away from her niece.  "Rin-chan, will you do the honors?"_

Ayumi's sempai slid off of the couch, accepting the heavy tray and steadying it against the table.  "Thanks, Obaasan… will you and Ojisan be back soon?"

Her aunt shrugged, straightening her glasses.  "Who knows?  _He—" and she indicated Mouri-tantei behind her, hunting for his shoes— "wants to go to some sort of brand new car preview; I think that Suzuki girl's family is holding it—"_

Rin rolled her eyes.  "They are, and it's being held down by that new shopping center they built last month.  _*I* heard from Sonoko-kun that all the new cars were being showcased by girls in bikinis….."  The sound of Mouri's foot impacting a chair-leg as he hastily straightened acted as odd punctuation to the girl's sentence.  Sputtering sounds of pained denial followed, but Eri-san simply rolled __*her* eyes and sighed, looking very much like her niece in that moment._

Very much like her indeed…..  Ayumi watched, feeling unsettled as the woman gently ruffled Rin's hair with one hand.  "We'll be back sometime this evening.  Be good."  _That was interesting; she had directed her last words at __Conan, not Rin-kun._

As the door closed at the bottom of the stairs, there was a flurry of hands reaching for glasses; then everyone went back to their reading without a word.  Conan-kun yawned, set his soda on the floor and returned to his original position; Ayumi watched them both over the top of her manga, a small frown-line furrowing between her eyes.

Time passed; pages turned, the day waned into late afternoon, and young eyes that had been lulled into laziness closed and drowsed, books or magazines falling into laps.  Time passed, punctuated by the ticking of the clock on the wall behind the couch.  Time passed.

_…tick, tick, tick, tick….._

Ayumi slowly came back to herself, blinking sleepily from under the volume of _Ushio to Tora that had fallen forward to land against the bridge of her nose.  The room was quite silent, save for Genta's rather thunderous snores and a soft, surprising whistle that seemed to be coming from Ai, who lay curled in a chair in the corner.  The blonde had her arms around a sheaf of her American magazines in the same fashion that another might have clutched a teddy-bear; Ayumi almost giggled aloud at the sight—__would have giggled except—_

-- for the soft sound of a turning page, coming from Rin-kun.  The brown-haired girl had not yet noticed that her friend was awake, apparently; she was deeply engrossed in her book.  It was something she had bought at the sale, Ayumi remembered—a novel, not manga; at the time she had commented nonchalantly that it was a gift for her cousin Ran-neechan.

And maybe it had been, in a way.

Ayumi kept quite still, peeking from under her book; everyone was asleep, even Conan-kun—she could hear his soft exhalations of breath, see the relaxed face that was now bare of glasses; Rin must have slid them off, as they lay folded shut on the cushion beside him.  It was very quiet….. no-one was listening…..

_…tick, tick, tick, tick….._

She slid the book very slowly, very soundlessly away from her face; Rin-kun paid no attention.  Hesitating, the girl swallowed hard.  She had thought about what to ask, but not really _HOW to ask it—_

_*NOW??*_

_*Yes, now, just like Hei-san said; be brave, just like Ushio was in the manga.  'Deal the cards yourself….. and trust your friends.'*_

That hadn't been *quite* how _he had put it, but it would work.  It sounded better, somehow._

"Ran-kun?" she said very, very softly, her voice barely audible in the still room.

The other little girl turned a page, still concentrating.  "Hmm, Ayumi-chan?  What is it?"  She looked up absently…..

….. and then froze, the book sliding from her nerveless fingers onto the couch.  Rin's jaw dropped in shock, and Ayumi could _see the dismay and the struggle to recover that passed across her face like a wave, brushing all traces of absentmindedness utterly away.  "Uhhhh…. I, I'm not—I mean—  W-why did you… __why did you call me— ****__that name?  W-why—"_

Ayumi stared unblinking at her friend, heart pounding painfully; she bit her lip.  "Because… because you _are Ran, aren't you?  __Aren't you??"_

"A-Ayumi-kun…..  Don't—"

**_"Aren't you??"  She couldn't keep the trepidation out of her voice.___**

Silence in the room, only broken by the ticking of the clock and Rin's rapid breathing; even Genta's snores seemed muted.  Rin picked up her novel, clutching it tightly enough to make her nails bite into the paper cover.  "I…..  Ayumi-kun, I _can't……"  Her eyes were huge._

The moment stretched out, seeming to gather silence in the way that snow gathers on a windowsill, piling deeper and deeper by the second.  "If—if you don't want to tell me… how you got to be a kid again….."  Ayumi fidgeted with the manga volume in her hands, running one nail along the pages at the top over and over; it made a faint _zzipp__! sound, loud in the stillness.  "…if you __can't tell me—  but, but I can keep secrets __too, Rin-kun… R-Ran-neechan… and I won't ever, ever, __EVER tell anybody—"_

"—but I just **_need to know—"_**

_…tick, tick, tick, tick….._

Silence, deep as the gulf of time between childhood and adulthood.

_…tick, tick, tick, tick….._

**_"Tell her."  Conan's low voice broke the quiet into pieces, shattered it like a mirror._**

Both girls stared at him—he hadn't moved, he was still lying stretched out and relaxed across the couch; only his eyes had changed.  The shadows there were bleak and full of some sort of pain unfamiliar to Ayumi, but very steady.  _"Tell her, Rin…..  Ran.  If she managed to figure it out, she deserves to know."  _

His eyes flickered to Genta, Mitsuhiko, who continued to sleep the sleep of the innocent.  "Tell her….. but not here."  Genta's snores continued steadily, although the blonde girl's soft breath-whistles had rather suddenly stopped; she shifted slightly, pillowing her head on her arm.

Ayumi stared, open-mouthed.  _Conan-kun?  He sounded so…..  All the while she had tried to think mostly about Rin, not Conan, even though she realized that *both* of them were—_

-- were--

-- were _different.  Weren't really kids, maybe.  __*Conan-kun…..*  Ayumi felt her heart turn over in her chest; it hurt.  She was his __Best Friend, he had said, but if he was really a grownup then was that the truth?  What *was* the truth?  She bit her lip again, trying hard to keep tears back; they kept trying to leak out.  _

She hadn't _wanted to think about Conan being different._

Rin-kun was staring at the boy's face now, looking all upset and scared… what did she have to be scared of?  _Ayumi?  The girl's young mind refused to accept that possibility; she gulped.  Maybe Hei-san was wrong—maybe she had been better off never saying anything, maybe she should just tell them 'never mind' and 'forget about it', maybe she should just—_

_('Trust your friends… but deal the cards yourself'…..')_

_('There's only one truth.')_

_Deal the cards yourself… and trust your friends._

_Trust your friends__._

_*Hei-san, I really really wish you were here!*  Ayumi felt something warm and wet run down one cheek; she sniffled a little, wiping her face with the back of one hand.  Very quietly she slid down from her chair, the volume of manga dropping to lie unnoticed on the floor as she crossed the room to stand timidly before her friends.  "R-Rin-kun?  __Can you tell me?"  She wiped at her face again, whispering.  "I'm sorry…..  I didn't mean to get you upset…..  I just want to __know."  _

Another tear ran down the angle of her jaw, splashing onto the cushion not six inches from Conan-kun's shoulder.  His eyes flickered to the spot of dampness, then back up to the little girl's face again; at Rin's agitated intake of breath he shook his head.  "Tell her, Ran.  It's okay.  Just…  I'm sorry, Ayumi-kun.  I really am."

He looked so _sad.  Why was he sorry?  __She was the one who had gotten them all upset and everything….._

Ran sighed, then silently slid down from the couch and tiptoed past the sleeping boys towards the stairs, motioning for Ayumi to come with her.  Looking back at Conan-kun apprehensively, the child gulped once and followed, wondering.

And as the two slipped out the front door, toeing on their shoes as they went, Ayumi could swear she heard Ai-kun speaking behind her in the quietest voice possible:  _"Well.  I hope you know what you're doing, Kudo-kun….."_

* * * * * * * * * * * *

_Many, many years later, when Yoshida Ayumi was a grown woman with children of her own, she would sometimes tell her little ones a particular fairy tale when she put them to bed.  The story became a family favorite, long since polished by time and repetition; decades later it would be passed down from generation to generation as the Tale of Prince Ichi….._

_"Once upon a time in a land far, far away, there lived a powerful and noble Prince.  He was tall and handsome and intelligent, and he spent much of his time helping his subjects by solving difficult riddles and fighting the evil robbers and murderers that plague even the fairest of lands.  Prince Ichi was well-known by kings and emperors far and wide, and his wisdom was sought after in many countries."_

_"One day Prince Ichi was out visiting a friend's castle far from his home in the company of Princess Orchid, who loved him and would someday become his bride.  Princess Orchid was tall and beautiful with kind eyes and a was a powerful sorceress and warrior in her own right; she was loved by the people of her country, and everyone looked forward to the day when the Prince and Princess would marry.  Everyone, that is, except for the Black Knights."_

_"The Black Knights were evil—they sought to rule all countries, and that which they could not conquer they destroyed.  They fought the powers of goodness by killing its champions, by capturing its warriors, by attacking its citadels.  And this day the Black Knights had decided that Prince Ichi was a danger to their schemes and cunning, and they would stop at nothing to end his life."_

_"So as Prince Ichi strolled across the grounds of his friend's castle, an attack was being plotted.  A noise caught the noble Prince's attention, and the sight of two fearful monsters in the __Forest__ of __Secrets__ which divided their lands drew him from the Princess' side.  He left, telling her that he would return soon….."_

_"But he did not return.  The day grew long—the sun set—and still Prince Ichi did not return.  At last, worried and grieving, Princess Orchid called upon her ministers and assistants to search for her beloved Prince: the Wise Scientist Agasan; the Captain of the Guards, Takasan; and the Royal Fool (who had always been like a father to the Princess), Tanteisan.  They each searched in their own way for a fortnight, until at last they all returned to the Princess, weary and heartsore; Prince Ichi had well and truly vanished into thin air, and there was no finding him."_

_"Princess Orchid vowed that she would not rest until she had found her beloved Prince; from day to day she searched, wandering through the land accompanied by her three most loyal knights, Yumisan, Gensan and Hikosan.  They protected her while she searched, kept her safe while she slept, and had many, many terrible and wonderful adventures in doing so.  But neither she nor they could find any trace of Prince Ichi."_

_"At last they returned to the Princess' castle in her own country; and there they found a visitor—a young boy from a far and distant land (or so he claimed), with wise eyes and a strangely piercing gaze.  He had arrived with nothing more than the ill-fitting clothing upon his back, but he had speedily risen in the interest of the Court by his quiet observations and obvious intelligence.  He had come, he said, because the Princess would need him; and he met her at the gate when she rode in from her fruitless searchings."_

_"When he held her horse for her to dismount, she was curious; when he brought her cool wine to drink and fruit to soothe her hunger, she was puzzled; and when he quietly went about the business of acting as her page, she became determined to know more of the boy."_

_""Who are you?" she asked, wondering."_

_"He shook his head.  "No-one—I have no father and no mother, no home, no country; all I have is the place I stand in and the sights and sounds my senses give me.  I have no past, and I don't know what future may lie before me."  The boy smiled at her then, a smile as sad as it was sweet; "If you want to call me anything, then just call me your Page.""_

_"Princess Orchid was puzzled, but chose to accept his answer; in truth, she was so lonely by now from missing her Prince that the child's company was very welcome.  "Very well then, Page—come, sit and talk with me for a while."  And they sat together for a number of hours, talking together about everything and nothing.  She found that his words were mostly those of a young boy, but that also they carried a strange wisdom and insight that was most unchildlike."_

_"And she thought of how like her Page was to Prince Ichi, and she wondered….."_

_"So the Princess returned to her rulership of her home, accompanied by her Page; time passed, and she began to become accustomed to the loss of her Prince, although she never gave up hope that he would return to her.  As the days became weeks and the weeks became months, the boy Page became her close friend and confident, although his lack of years sometimes made her sad—he seemed to know too much and to have seen too much sorrow for such a young child.  Her Page stayed beside her throughout the day, serving; often he seemed to know her wishes before she spoke them aloud.  He listened to court matters, gave advice when asked, and made her laugh with his jokes and occasional (and often clumsy) attempts to cheer her up.  His observations were useful to her, as were the questions that he asked when a matter of import came up before her; and it became apparent to all there that the Princess had found a friend in her Page."_

_"As the months passed and Prince Ichi did not return, the Princess was often observed looking out her window towards the __Forest__ of __Secrets__ into which he had disappeared, sighing sadly.  At last one day her Page asked her:  "Why are you sad, Orchid-Himitsu?""_

_""Because there is one who went away, who I miss very much.__  I don't know where he is, or even if he's still alive—he promised to return to me, but….." and she fell silent, troubled."_

_"The boy looked up at her, and his eyes were kind.  "If you miss him, don't you think he misses you too, wherever he is?  And if he promised to come back to you, don't you think he'll keep his promise, no matter how difficult it is?"  He sighed, turning to stare out towards the distant trees.  "Sometimes we have to make the best of a difficult thing; problems can be like pieces of glass broken from a window.  They can turn in the hand if clutched too tightly, cutting the skin.  But… you can use a piece of glass for other things, too—to look through for a different view of things, to focus a ray from the sun…..""_

_"The Princess took comfort from his words, and believed."_

_"And she thought again of how like her Page was to Prince Ichi, and again she wondered….."_

_"One day a wonderful thing happened:  A message arrived from Prince Ichi, carried in the talons of a trained hawk who landed on Princess Orchid's windowsill.  The message told that he was far, far away, in a land that was very strange to him—he had visited it once before in the company of his parents, but that had been many years past.  He promised that he would always be with the Princess in spirit, and that he would return to her when it was possible; but he was needed where he was, and his return would endanger her, for he was always pursued by enemies whenever his face was seen.  He asked her to wait, as she had been waiting, to trust him and believe; and the writing on the parchment was blurred as if by tears at this point."_

_"She folded the message and smiled at her Page, who sat by the window and stared out at the forest.  "He has promised, and he always tells the truth; I will trust him."  Her Page said nothing, but seemed comforted by her happiness."_

_"Time passed; the Page served Princess Orchid well, accompanying her and her loyal Guardsmen about her duties across the land.  He became close friends with the three Guards—indeed, Yumisan became his closest friend save for the Princess herself.  Many hours were passed laughing and traveling with the Guards, and many fine adventures were had."_

_"Dangers abounded in these days for the Princess and her people; the evil Black Knights were everywhere, it seemed, and many times their terrors and plots were thwarted by the actions of the Guards and Orchid-Himitsu's Page.  He seemed to know them well—the Princess could not help but wonder what he had seen in his short life to make him regard them with such fear and resolute defiance."_

_"Many long hours were spent seeking out the evil seeds planted by the Black Knights; they excelled in subverting the good to evil purposes, and they had a positive talent for finding those who were weak enough to be swayed into their service by payment in gold.  For every traitor which was discovered, the Guards feared that two more existed; for every plot uncovered, her advisors kept watch thricefold against the ones which they knew still went unseen.  These were fearful times indeed."_

_"Always, always her Page kept on guard against the Black Knights, being wounded more than once as he intervened between their danger and the safety of the innocent.  Several times the Princess' life was saved by the actions of the Royal Guards and the cunning advice and stratagems of her Page; but never did they ask for a reward, not even once."_

_"At last the Princess took the Guardsmen aside to speak with them; they had served her well, she said.  Was there *nothing* that they might wish for a reward?  And what of her Page—did they know of anything he might want?"_

_"Yumisan spoke up first:  Being the Princess' guard, she said, was a reward in itself.  But it was true that she loved flowers, and of all things she would love to be given a rose-garden the most of all.  And so it was done, and the loyal Guardsman worked in her garden when she was not on duty, raising the finest white roses ever seen."_

_"Hikosan spoke next:  the Princess' guard, he said, was a delight in itself.  But he did indeed have a fondness for artisanship and the wonders of science, and he wished to learn as much in that arcane field as he might.  And so it was done, and the loyal Guardsman was put into the care of the Princess' Wise Scientist Agasan, to be taught and trained as his successor."_

_"Gensan spoke up last:  the Princess' guard, he said, was an adventure in itself.  But he admitted that of all things he loved good food the best, and wished that he might not only eat the things he loved whenever he chose… but would like to know how to *make* them as well.  And so it was done, and the loyal Guardsman was placed under the tutelage of the finest cooks in the land, to keep them safe and to learn their secrets."_

_"At last she asked them again—what of her Page?  Was there *nothing* he desired?  The three Guardsmen conferred together and came up with an answer."_

_"He desired a home, and a family.  Sometimes he had seemed sad when he had seen the three Guardsmen visiting their mothers and fathers and siblings, for he had none and it seemed that he regretted their loss.  And the Princess recalled his words:  'I have no father and no mother, no home, no country; all I have is the place I stand in and the sights and sounds my senses give me.  I have no past, and I don't know what future may lie before me.'"_

_"Once more the Princess  thought of how like her Page was to Prince Ichi, and once more she wondered….."_

_"And so, on the day which marked the one-year anniversary of her meeting with her Page, Princess Orchid brought him before the Court and declared that he was now and forevermore her adopted brother, to be one of the Royal Family from that moment forward.  He was no longer her Page, but would now become a Prince in his own right.  And she turned to him and asked him to give her a name, for 'Page' would not do for a Prince."_

_"In astonishment he stared at her, opening his mouth to answer—and catastrophe happened.  Into the Court burst a contingent of the Black Knights, swords upraised and terrible!  The traitors in the Princess' country had told them how to find the secret passageways through the castle, and they had traveled thus unseen to the very heart of the Throneroom.  Many of the lesser Guards fell, and the Princess cried out for Gensan and Hikosan to protect her advisors and ministers as she was taken away by her Page and the guard Yumisan to safety.  Together the three fled towards the forest as fast as they could go, although the Princess would have stayed behind to help her people if she had been allowed."_

_"At last they stopped in their flight, deep within the shadows of the trees; the Page seemed to know which paths to take, and Princess Orchid and her guard followed him trustingly.  "We must find help for our people and land," she cried out; "Else these Black Knights will enslave us all, leaving ruin behind them when they are finished.""_

_"Her Page nodded.  "I know—and there may be help to be found here, in the __Forest__ of __Secrets__.  Once before I found a refuge here, and aid in a time of trouble; perhaps she who helped me will do so again."  He smiled at the Princess.  "Trust me, and believe.""_

_"For many hours they traveled, deeper and deeper into the wood, until they came to the entrance of a certain cave; by now it was darker than the darkest of shadows there below the endless trees, and the cave was noticeable only because a brilliant light shone from its opening, all red and golden.  Warmth, too, emitted from the cleft in the rocks, and as the three drew nearer they saw that within the cave was a bird, burning; and the bird was a __Phoenix__, bound in chains."_

_"The Princess and her Guard approached with fear and trepidation, but the Page stepped up to the __Phoenix__ without any signs of alarm.  "__Phoenix__?  Once before you helped me when I fled to you here, though I did not understand that I was being helped at the time.  Now we are pursued by the same evil creatures that wounded me before; will you help us, and the land as well?""_

_"The __Phoenix__ flickered, her fires swirling about her chains like grasping hands.  She answered in the voice of a young girl:  "Gladly will I help you, but my aid always comes with a price.  When you came to me before, I saved your life at the cost of your identity and adulthood; you traded your years for youth and your name for that of No-one in order to be healed and to return to your Princess' side.  *What* will you give me now, that I might aid you yet again?""_

_"The Princess stared at the boy, her Page who had served her so faithfully; and she wondered, as she had so many times before—and this time she asked what she had only asked but once.  "Who are you?""_

_"He bowed his head, unanswering; but in his place the __Phoenix__ spoke.  "He cannot tell you, for I have locked his secrets within his tongue and they cannot come out.  But *I* can speak, and I will.  He is your Prince Ichi, who fought a year past with the Black Knights and was wounded near to death; fleeing within the forest he found me here and implored my help.  But my aid, as I have said, comes with a price—and the price of his healing was that he must never speak of me or of what had passed, lest he die and be foresworn; did he not promise to return to you?  He did, and has kept his promise.""_

_"The Page was silent, but when he looked up into Princess Orchid's face she saw Prince Ichi behind the sorrow in his eyes.  And she wept, knowing that her Prince had been with her all along.  "But what can be done now?  Can you aid us again—destroy the Black Knights, help my people, or bring my Prince back to himself?""_

_"The __Phoenix__ shook her head.  "I can do none of those things—do you not see my chains?  The Black Knights bound me here long ago, and only when I break my chains myself can I act on my own.  Until then I can only aid those who come to me directly and then only one time each… and they, too, must pay a price.  Tell me now, Princess Orchid:  What price will *you* pay for the help you wish?""_

_"The Princess brushed the tears from her eyes and stood strong and determined before the __Phoenix__; "Whatever is needed, that I will pay."  And beside her the boy who had been Prince Ichi covered his face with his hands in sorrow while the Guardsman Yumisan looked on….."_

_"Hours passed within the forest, moving from __midnight__ to dawn.  And as the sun rose….."_

_"….. as the sun rose, a strange thing happened to the __Forest__ of __Secrets__, and this is what it was this--"_

_"Every tree, every pine and ash and maple there:  each one was transformed into an armored warrior, tall and terrible and bearing the emblem of Princess Orchid upon their breasts.  They thundered towards the castle, slaying every Black Knight that tried to face them down, destroying the evil that had so taken over the land as they moved forward in an unstoppable tide.  Some of them paused to help the populace, putting out the fires that ravaged the land and bandaging the wounds of those who had fallen before the Black Knight's swords.  Not a word was spoken by these warriors, but the anger in their eyes was a fearful thing indeed."_

_"At last the tide of warriors reached the castle, which had been taken entirely by the Black Knights; a fierce battle was fought between the tree-warriors and the evil invaders, and by sunset every Black Knight save for two lay dead at their hands.  But when the sun began to set the warriors vanished, and the __Forest__ of __Secrets__ stood once again where it had been, as dark and silent as ever.   But from its shadows three small figures emerged, traveling swiftly and silently towards the castle, accompanied by a fourth, taller form."_

_"The two remaining Black Knights took refuge in the Throne Room, holding off the guardsmen who had survived their attack with steel and sorcerous bolts of lightning; many more valiant subjects of Princess Orchid died against them, falling in battle.  And as darkest night came down across the land, three small figures were seen entering the broken walls of the palace.  One was a boy, well-known among the populace (who rejoiced to see their new Prince, he who had been called the Page); the other was a girl as young as he, brown of hair and with the most beautiful eyes anyone had ever seen.  The third figure was another girl, golden-haired and calm of demeanor; the fourth figure, who walked behind them with wary eyes and a silent tongue was that of the Royal Guardsman, Yumisan."_

_"Together they entered the ruined courtyard, three children together and one adult, moving with great caution and determination among the broken walls.  When at last they came to the Throne Room a great throng of the people had gathered behind them, and they began to call out to the Black Knights to come out and face them rather than hide like the cowards they were.  After a little of this, the two Black Knights launched great and terrible blasts of fire from where they were bastioned, separating the four who stood foremost from the rest of the crowd and driving the others away; and the evil beings laughed to see that their opponents were nothing more than three small children and one weary Guard."_

_""Do not laugh," warned the boy, staring grimly at his enemies.  "You live now only because I could not reach you before—because of you I have lost *everything* that I ever loved, my home, my family, my very self—"  But in that moment the small brown-haired girl beside him took his hand, and he smiled for a moment; "Well," he said, "That's wrong; not *everything.*""_

_"He turned back to the Black Knights then and his face grew stern and most unchildlike once again.  "And there is another reason why you still live:  because the two here beside me have a greater claim upon your lives than I."  He stepped aside then, giving place to the two young girls."_

_"The brown-haired girl spoke then, and her voice was strong and fierce.  "For my people's sake I have given up my place among them—now I am no-one, as homeless and nameless as the Page was when he came among us.  And as he has now become a Prince of this land, I gave up this price for *him* as well.  Will you yield to us?  I will only ask you once.""_

_"And through it all, Yumisan the Royal Guardsman stood silent and unspeaking, watching, her hand on her swordhilt."___

_"The evil Black Knights howled with laughter, cold and dark as thunder and winter rain.  Whyever would they yield to children?  "Where are the weapons you would threaten us with?" they asked mockingly.  "What will you do if we refuse?  To be sure, you've killed our armies, but your warriors are gone—you have nothing left to strike us down with!""_

_"At this, the last of the three children stepped forward, and her eyes were as cold as a frozen lake and as hot as the heart of the sun.  Within her hand she held a feather, glowing brilliant red in the gloom of the ruined castle.  "I am their weapon," she told them softly in her small girl's voice.  "I am the sword at your throats, the noose around your necks, the spear at your hearts.  I am the fire that burns back the darkness!"  And suddenly there was no longer a girl-child there but a __Phoenix__, blazing with flames hotter than sunlight through a burning-glass."_

_"The Black Knights screamed in torment as her firey talons grasped them; the more they screamed and struggled, the more they were engulfed by flames, until at last the screaming stopped and they were no more."_

_"Then, with a terrible blast of light and fury, the Phoenix dwindled to become the small golden-haired girl; she slumped to the ground, exhausted with this last great magic of hers which had gained her revenge for countless years of slavery in the Black Knight's servitude.  For it was as she had told the three within her cave:  Long, long ago she had been taken prison by the evil ones, the daughter of a family of wise magicians and scientists.  Bewitched into the shape of a __Phoenix__ by the blood and lives of her slaughtered family, she had been bound within the __Forest__ of __Secrets__ as the hidden servant of the Black Knights, there to do their bidding at their bequests.  For every wish of power that they tortured out of her they would threaten to kill an innocent, against which she could not fight; therefore she had remained bound in chains for uncounted centuries, a slave in the dark."_

_"But even the greatest pain ends.  When the Princess Orchid had offered up her woman's body and princess' name in exchange for an army of secrets to help her people, the Phoenix-child at last found the courage to slip free of her chains; even the Phoenix had to pay the Phoenix' price, and she too gave up her form for that of innocence and helplessness, which proved not to be so helpless after all.  The chains could no longer bind her—they were too large, and she was too small—and so she was free.  With the last of her magic (bound in the single remaining Phoenix-feather) she had taken her revenge for every grief that she and so many others had suffered at the hands of the Black Knights."_

_"And through this all, Yumisan had watched and kept silent—for that silence was *her* price, the price which would purchase the end of the Black Knights and their evil influence.  Even as the last of them burned into ashes, terrible screams rang out among the remaining populace—and traitors who had hidden themselves safely among the innocent, those who had sold the country's secret weaknesses and passages among the castle for gold—they each and every one of them turned into solid black pillars of stone."_

_"In the end, when all was quiet and still and the people who had been driven away came back at sunrise, they found the three children resting in a sound sleep, guarded by Yumisan.  The Royal Guardsman informed them that their Princess had been sent away to a far distant land to be with her Prince Ichi, for he had great need of her there; and so she would remain, for her new young adopted brother (he who had been her Page) had won the right of rulership by his deeds… and her heart cried out for her Prince."_

_"This grieved them greatly, for they loved their Princess Orchid; but her word was law, and the new young Prince (though only a boy) had indeed been recognized as part of the ruling line before them all the day before—and if she gave up her crown to him, what were they to say about it?"_

_""But who is this?" they wondered, seeing the brown-haired young girl who had just awakened from where she lay curled at the new Prince's side.  He turned to her, smiling sadly, and said "This is a maiden from my country far away who my father has sent to keep me company."  And all there wondered at the strange happiness in his face."_

_""And this?__  Who is this?" they said, pointing to the golden-haired child who still slept.  "She also came from my country, a cunning and well-taught artificer who will work well beside Agasan and Hikosan to guard our borders with her inventions and spells."  At this the girl awoke, blinking at the rays of the rising sun; for the Phoenix had been bound too deeply inside the cave to see any light save for her own, and she had not viewed the sun for many, many years."_

_""Prince?__  How will you call yourself, by what name shall you reign over us?  You never said," asked Agasan respectfully; as he was a wise man he had viewed the Page's likeness to Prince Ichi with a curious eye, but he had kept silent regarding his speculations.  But now he waited for the new Prince's answer, as did all the rest of those watching._

_"At that question he who had once been the Page smiled a little, considering; at last he turned to the brown-haired girl and shook his head.  "I have been only a Page for so long; let another name me.""_

_"The girl though a while, then looked up with laughter in her eyes which many found strangely familiar.  "As our Princess has gone to join her Prince Ichi, whose name means 'one', then I name you Prince Ni, whose name means 'two'."  He blinked at her and looked doubtful (who had ever heard of a land ruled by someone named 'Ni'?), but accepted the name.  In return she asked him for a name for herself, for she had chosen (she said) to leave her old name behind.  What did he wish to call her?"_

_"The young Prince Ni thought to himself for a moment, then smiled down at his friend.  "I think," he said softly, "that you must be named San, for as two follows one, three must certainly follow two."_

_"She laughed at him; "And I have followed *you*, have I not?""_

_"At this, the golden-haired girl frowned at the two beside her, crossing her arms severely.  "I refuse to be called either 'Shi' or 'Yon'", she announced."_

_"The other two children laughed.  "No, your name should be of your own choosing… but I admit that I cannot see you deciding upon any other name than Phoenix," said the young Prince, at which she conceded that he was right; after all, she had been a captive for so very many years that she had long since forgotten the name that had once been hers."_

_"And so the land returned to peace, ruled over by the hand of Prince Ni, whose unusual intelligence and good sense kept it safe throughout his lifetime and many generations to follow.  When he came at last to adulthood, he married the beautiful Lady San (which surprised no-one at all), and—well advised by their Advisors and well guarded by their Guards—the royal couple lived long, fruitful lives, enriched by the joys of their children (whom they seemed to understand surprisingly well) and by the happiness of their people."_

_"And as for the Guardsman Yumisan?__  What she saw that night in the __Forest__ of __Secrets__ stayed locked forever in her heart of hearts; for that, indeed, is what a secret is—a treasure, bound in a box made all of silence.  And when she saw her fellow subjects wondering about a decision that the Prince and Princess had made, or whether or not they were truly wise enough to rule, she would laugh and touch her finger to her lips, signifying silence; and then she would nod and say simply, "Trust them… and believe.""_

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Rin-kun?..... um, R-Ran-neechan?" ventured Ayumi, eyes very wide. 

They were outside on the tiny scrap of grass that was hid behind the Mouri's building; the branches of one of the somewhat bedraggled ash trees edging the so-called lawn arched overhead, and a single leaf drifted down slowly to land near the two girls where they sat cross-legged on the ground.

Rin sighed.  "You can still call me Rin, you know…. I'm getting pretty used to it by now."  She raised one hand to rub at her aching temples; telling the truth about herself and Conan in terms that an eight-year-old could handle had been—difficult.

_*If I talk much more about this, I think I'm going to fall over.  Can eight-year-olds have nervous breakdowns?*_

It wasn't that Ayumi-chan was stupid—God, no; that was the problem, when you got right down to it.  She was bright, _too bright for comfort; there had been moments in the last few months when Rin had seen her watching them and thinking about…..  Well; now they __knew what she had been thinking about, didn't they?_

Had they really been *that* clumsy?

Somehow she didn't think so…..  Part of the problem, really, was that Ayumi-chan had learned to _see things a little differently; children could be perceptive enough, but for a year now she (and the others, of course) had been under the tutelage of someone with very exceptional insight and detective abilities—and that sort of thing tended to rub off.  In fact, Shinichi had been __actively teaching the kids how to *see*….. and now, in an ironic sort of way, those lessons were paying off._

"R-Rin-kun?" the small voice ventured again, making her look up.  "Rin?  A-are you _mad at me for finding out?"  Ayumi's eyes were huge; she fidgeted a little, huddled there on the grass with her hands in her lap._

_*Ohhhh….. so that's the problem.*  "No—no, Ayumi-chan.  No, __listen to me now, okay?—"  Rin reached out and caught her friend by the shoulder as the child tried to draw in on herself a little.  "No, I'm not mad at all… __surprised, yes, but not mad."  _

She gave the other girl a small shake.  "You're really smart, you know," she said, allowing a little playfulness and approval to slip into her voice; "Nobody _else figured it out—well, almost nobody; there's Heiji-kun… you saw him at the park.  But he's the only one so far—Conan had to tell __me, even.  Every time I thought he was really Shinichi he managed to change my mind one way or the other.  So you did pretty good, didn't you, Ayumi-chan?"  Rin smiled into her young friend's face, who wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and returned a somewhat watery grin._

The child drew her knees up, clasping them with her arms and resting her chin on her hands.  "You… still call him Conan-kun?  Even though you _know he's really—"_

Rin nodded firmly.  "But he's Conan-kun _now, Ayumi.  No matter who he was before, that's who he is now—just like I'm now Himitsu Rin.  And even though you know the truth now… __you're going to have to think of us as Rin and Conan, not—not Ran and Shinichi."  _

She sighed a little, a distant look in her eyes as she reached for the maple leaf that had fallen moments before.  Twirling it in her fingers she traced the edge gently; Fall was well underway—the leaves were turning; things changed all the time, everywhere—when you got so caught up noticing the changes in yourself, sometimes your forgot that.  "What we were… well, that doesn't matter that much anymore; who we are _now is what's important.  Everybody grows and changes, Ayumi-chan—I guess we just did it a little more than most people."  Rin chuckled softly to herself._

_*Who knows?  Maybe we needed this second childhood—or maybe the world needed us to have it.  Shinichi, anyway—how many of these Conan-cases could he have solved if he hadn't been kid-sized?  How many of them would he have missed?*  She glanced at the little girl sitting a few feet away; the child's face was still a little troubled, and no wonder—a lot had happened to Ayumi in the last hour or so.  __*Poor kid; from what she said, she's been worrying about this at least a little for months now, even if it really only came to a head over the past week or so.  I wonder who this 'friend' of hers is that gave her such good advice?..... and…. How did he…..*_

_*-----AAAACK-----*_

Her own eyes grew huge suddenly and her breath choked in her throat as she realized:  **_Ayumi's_****_ friend *KNEW* about them.  _**

_*Oh **no…..  Shinichi's going to have fits.  I think I'll have a few as well, just to keep him company.***_

"Rin-kun?  What's wrong?"  She must have made some sort of sound at the moment of realization; it took her a moment or two before she could make her frozen vocal chords work again.  _*Too many shocks in one day,* Rin thought hazily, rubbing at her temples again; she needed a child-sized dose of aspirin and a nap.  __*Much more of this and my head's going to explode.  How on earth did Shinichi STAND worrying like this about my finding out for a whole year??*_

Ayumi's concerned face peered at hers; a child-small hand was placed on her forehead.  "Are you getting sick?  You're awfully pale…..  Do, ummmm, grownup kids get sick like regular kids do?"

The former teenager shook her head a little, hard.  "N-no….. no, I'm alright.  Errrrr… Ayumi-chan….. that _friend of yours, the one who suggested you talk to us…..  Who is he?"  __*Please, please, please be somebody trustworthy, please, please, PLEASE be somebody trustworthy-----*_

The child's worried countenance cleared.  "Oh, that's H—" and she stopped mid-word, an arrested look on her face.  "Ummmmm… IsortofpromisedhimIwouldn'ttell."

_*AAAAAARGH!!  Don't panic—if you panic, SHE'LL panic… little kids can smell fear, I swear.*  "Ayumi-chan….. I really, REALLY need to know," she said, trying to keep her voice calm.  "He knows about us—and from what you said, it sounds as if he knew about us even *before* you said anything.  __We need to talk to him.  If he tells the wrong person…..  Ayumi?  Remember what I said about—about the, umm, bad guys?"_

The child scowled at her a little, tightening her clasp again on her knees.  "You don't need to act like I'm a baby, you know—you mean the ones who turned Shinichi into… Conan-kun.  You said they were sort of like—like gangsters in those American movies, or maybe yakuza in scary cop-shows on TV, right?  And they have mad scientists, like on the late movies too…..  You said they wear black clothes most of the time, and they hurt people they don't like—they shoot people and poison people and blow up buildings and set them on fire and—"  Ayumi ticked off the salient points of their earlier conversation on her fingers, far calmer regarding the whole matter than the former adult who sat staring at her, mouth open.  

"Rin-kun?  Will they come after me because I know?  I mean, if they find out I know?  And if they find out I know, will they come after Mitsuhiko-kun and Genta-kun and—oh!  And Haibara-san _too, because you said that __she's the one who made the-- the medicine, right?  And if they find out I know, will they—"_

"Ayumi-chan—"

"—will they chase us and will we have to hide and—"

"Ayumi-chan!  No, no, no, calm down now—"  (although really it seemed that _Ran was the one getting upset here…..)  "Ayumi, this isn't a TV show—if they find out, they __will do all those terrible things.  But… if you're very, __very careful and you don't tell __anybody, they won't find out, will they?"_

This was the crux of the whole matter; Rin felt her palms sweating.  _*Shinichi, I wish you were down here and not up there with the boys--*  "Ayumi-chan?  __CAN you keep this a secret?  Not just for now, or even for a year—forever and ever?  Our lives depend on it, and—and now, so does yours.  **Can you??"**_

_*You trusted me for the truth, Ayumi-chan….. can we trust you to keep our secret?  You're only eight years old….. no eight-year-old should have to keep silent about something like this, but it's way too late for recriminations.  Can you keep our secret, Ayumi?*_

The little girl was silent, sitting still in the grass.  Her small face was solemn and a little troubled as the gravity of Rin's words sank in.  In that moment, staring at her from so close by, the young woman inside Himitsu Rin's diminutive form saw something she had not expected and could only barely recognize:  the woman that her young friend would one day become, not yet there, not yet real….. but a possibility, a _probability.  And when the child raised her eyes to those of her friend's, the voice she used as she slowly answered seemed older than her years._

"I… can keep it.  I **_can—mostly because you and Conan __need me to."   She took a deep breath then, letting it out in a sigh.  "I… don't really understand everything you told me, but I don't want anybody to get hurt—so that's what I'll think about when I want to talk about it, okay?  Not letting anybody know—that's what'll keep people from getting hurt, right, Ran-neechan?  Rin-kun?"_**

And Rin believed her.  What's more… so did Ran, for reasons that she couldn't really put into words.  "That's… that's right, Ayumi-kun.  Thank you…" and as she suddenly found herself being hugged, she also found herself (somewhat to her surprise) leaking tears.

_*Sometimes I guess you just have to go with faith.*  She hugged her friend back, hard._

_*…..and now….. if I can get her to tell me about her friend and how in the world he knows about us…..*_

Behind them both, from a window one story up the face of a young, bespectacled boy drew back from where he had been listening; as he pulled the curtains gently closed behind him, he breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief.  _*Alright, Ayumi-kun; alright.  You've trusted us… now we'll just have to trust you.*_

************************************************************************************

_To Be Continued………_

**_YSABET'S NOTES:__  Heh heh; bet you thought I was going to derail her suspicions, hmmmm?  Nope.  I've always liked Ayumi—she's a bright if somewhat bratty kid, and I rather think she hero-worshiped Ran a good bit.  Sato too, for that matter…  Please pardon the Major WAFF in this one, it just seemed necessary.  And do you know, I've learned something interesting:  Writing fairytales is *hard* work!  I hope this one worked out—let me know, okay?  Drama, drama, drama… you have to ooze drama all over the place!  Now, as for next chapter… (Evil Grin)…  Lots and LOTS of Kaito Kid next time; poor 'Yumi-chan's going to end up between a rock and a hard place.  Also, birthday parties, magic tricks (I'm actually having to *learn* how to do some of them for this story—DC fics make me do the strangest research!  Good thing I can already juggle somewhat, even if badly), and maybe a peacock or two.  Please review—I'm not at all sure if this fic has plumbed the depths of Waffiness-depravity or if I'm still floating on top or not; is it too sappy?  Oh, and mucho thankees to Hauntress, Icka, Tina, Becky, Magik, Loqui and Morgan for being beta-readers for this!!  ESPECIALLY the fairytale part!_**


	4. Growing Pains

**Windfall**

**By Ysabet**

_Chapter 4:  Growing Pains_

__

_Everybody knows  
It hurts to grow up,  
And everybody does…  
(It's so weird to be back here.)  
Let me tell you what:  
The years go on, and  
We're still fighting it, we're still fighting it…  
You'll try and try-- and one day you'll fly away from me…  
            (__Ben Folds, 'Still Fighting It')  
  
_

"NO."

"Ayumi-kun?  Please, Ayumi-kun?"  _*GOD, she's stubborn…..*_

"No."

"But… but Ayumi, this is really _important—"  *… and I'm going to be the world's first grey-haired eight-year-old if I don't find out who the hell you've been talking to…*_

"No."

"Oh _c'monnnnn… Rin said you understood about how much we're going to be depending on your keeping our secret—we can't just forget that some guy we've never even *met__*  knows all about us—can't you just tell us his name?"  __*Aaaargh!!  C'MON now—you don't want me to die of frustration, do you?  Huh?*_

_"NO.  I promised.  A Promise Is A Promise."_

"But—but--  Rin, _YOU talk to her!"   __*I have a headache; a really, really big headache.  And it has friends, and I think they're all coming over to visit and hold a party in my cerebellum.  @#$%!!  Padded room, here I come…..*_

"…Ayumi?  Ayumi-chan?  Please… we're not mad or anything—we're just worried and we need to know who your friend is…  If he said _anything about this to the wrong people, we could be in so much trouble and not even know it, and you might be as well—remember?  Please, Ayumi-kun, just tell us his name?"_

"**No."**

_*…..sigh…..*_

They were on the way back to Ayumi's apartment building, threading their way between the late afternoon crowds and sidewalk traffic.  Genta and Mitsuhiko had parted ways with them a block or so earlier, and Conan and Rin were doing their so-far-futile utmost to pry the name of Ayumi's juggling teacher from her lips.

So far, no way.  'A Promise Is A Promise.'

Conan stole a sideways look at the little girl, whose outthrust lower lip indicated her stubborn refusal to yield.  In a way, he supposed wryly that this was _reassuring; if she could keep *this* a secret, then their own was more likely safe than not._

Hell of a pain, though; they _NEEDED to find out the damned man's name!  __*Ayumi-kun…..  He could be anybody; he could even be a member of the Black Organization—maybe they've figured things out, maybe they know where I am, Oh God, maybe they're biding their time and plotting to kill *everybody* connected with me, maybe-----  No; no.  That's your paranoia talking, Kudo; get a grip.*  He wiped a droplet of sweat from the bridge of his nose as his glasses slid a little ways down; avoiding a head-level elbow from a passing adult (and shooting them a bad-mood-induced dirty look), Conan stepped in a little from the curb and tried a new tactic:  Bargaining and/or Outright Bribery._

"Ayumi-kun…..  Look.  I realize you made a promise, and I know you want to keep it….. but we _*have* to talk to this guy.  If you tell us his name, I swear I won't yell at him or get him in trouble or anything like that—and I'll… uh, I'll…  I'll lend you my skateboard for a week."  He swallowed a pang of regret as he held up the skateboard, determinedly focusing on the problem at hand; he would __never have believed Ayumi could be so damned stubborn with her friends._

They walked on a few more yards while the girl considered his offer; after a moment or so she stuck her chin out belligerently, refusing to meet his eyes (thought she cast a wistful look or two at the skateboard).  "NO.  You're trying to BRIBE me and that's *wrong*, you TOLD me so—back when we found that bad guy who set fire to his house for the insurance money, remember?  He bribed his neighbors to say he hadn't been home for a couple of days…..  Bribes are *bad*.  That's _cheating."  She tilted her nose up, staring straight ahead with a miffed look on her young face; on her other side Rin stifled a snicker despite her concern._

Conan rolled his eyes.  "Ayumi-kunnnnnn……. Please!........ Okay, _two weeks!  Well?"_

Now Rin rolled _her eyes.  "Conan-kun—" she said warningly; she could tell that the other girl had had enough._

They were in front of her apartment building now, and the child paused before the entrance with a distinctly annoyed look on her face_.  "NO.  Now you just listen to me, Conan-kun!"  Hands on hips, she stared him right in the eye from the second step up to the doorway, her slight natural advantage of height __(*Crap—I hate being short!*) coupled with the step's few inches to allow her to loom just a little.  "You want me to keep *your* secret, right?  Well, I *will*!!  And if somebody was trying to bribe me to tell all about you being a grownup kid, you'd want me to not say anything, right?  Right!"_

Ayumi crossed her arms and scowled horribly down at him; he stepped back a little, eyes wide.  "So don't try and make me tell you something I shouldn't— I _promised Hei-san I wouldn't, and I—__MMMPHH!!!"_

She stopped mid-sentence, hands suddenly clasped over her mouth; Conan paused, an arrested look on his face….. changing slowly to completely horrified dismay…..

_"'Hei-san'??  '**HEI-SAN'??  Oh… ******__no__….."  His whisper trailed off into a muttered string of words that made Rin thump him on the back of his head with her knuckles.  "Ow!"_

"Well then, don't _say things like that or I'll—I'll wash your mouth out with soap!"_

Even in his agitation this made him snort briefly with laughter; he shot her an amused glance, straightening the glasses that her thump had knocked askew.  "You can't—we're the same size now, baka."

"Then I'll tell my Okaasan and _*she'll* do it—you know she will.  In fact, she'd probably enjoy it."  Rin grinned in triumph at his flinch of defeat._

During this little exchange Ayumi had been standing there, still as a statue; her wide eyes shifted back and forth from one to the other of her friends as if watching a ping-pong match.  "I said his name….  _I broke my promise!!"  The sentence dissolved into a wordless wail as the child burst into tears, plumping down abruptly onto the steps._

"Oh, Ayumi-chan, no, no, it's _okay….."  Ran knelt down in front of her and hugged the little girl tightly; "You didn't mean to—we both heard you, it just slipped out!"_

Her friend's words were broken into hardly understandable pieces by her tears; "…but…(sniffle) won't be able…(gulp, sob)… keep _your secret if… (sniffle, wipe eyes with back of hand)… can't even keep quiet about his __name…"  This was followed by a fresh outbreak, and Rin glared up at Conan as if it had entirely been his fault._

He shifted uneasily, wondering what to do, what to say; even when he had been Kudo Shinichi another person's tears had totally incapacitated him.   Ran had always been able to get away with _anything if she cried at him when they were kids…..  "Uh—uh, Ayumi-kun?  I'm… sorry…  It's just that we __really need to talk to him.  And besides," he set his jaw a little grimly, a somewhat steely look entering into his dark blue eyes and making them flash, "I'm fairly sure I *know* this… Hei-san."  He tilted his head a little to one side.  "He doesn't look a __thing like Hei-san the janitor from school, does he?"  __*He wouldn't, if he's really--*_

Still sniffling, Ayumi looked up and shook her head.  "Nooooo…  He doesn't sound like him either.  But he—you remember how Hei-san at school did magic tricks for us sometimes at Recess?  He—he teaches me tricks too, and sometimes I wonder if maybe he's his son or something like that."  She wiped her face again, and Rin (still kneeling) offered her a tissue from one pocket.  Rin still had a lot of Mouri Ran's habits hanging on, especially the ones that had involved taking care of a certain little boy.

_*His son, huh?  Not… likely.  But when you're a kid you don't really have that much of a concept of age; older-than-you means just that: older, and that's all.  Guess Hei-san the Janitor looked old enough to Ayumi for him to have a teenaged son…..  Dammit, dammit, dammit!  If this is who I think it is and not some weird coincidence--  No, it's no coincidence; every instinct I have says it isn't.  But WHY the hell is *he* teaching Ayumi magic tricks, of all weird things?  Is this some sort of plot to spy on me or what?*_

Conan hesitated, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring down at his friend.  "Um, Ayumi?  Is this Hei-san… nice?  I mean, you said he's your _friend, right?"  __*He had damned well BETTER be nice--*_

She nodded vigorously.  "He really is—he taught me juggling and that coin-trick I showed you yesterday and the card-tricks I did in class the other day, and he has pet doves and, and I *LIKE* him, because he listens to me and tells me jokes…  He's going to teach me how to do more tricks and more juggling and how to do ven-, um, ventaril-… how to throw my voice, and—and sometimes… I think he's _lonely.  I think he likes teaching me stuff because he doesn't have any brothers or sisters or anything."_

Conan blinked at that.  _*Lonely?*  The girl hesitated a little, her hands twisting in her lap.  "Sometimes… I wish I had a big brother, and he's sort of like that."  Ayumi offered him a rather watery smile for a second or two.  "He's awfully messy, though; his jeans almost always have holes in them, and he doesn't brush his hair enough.  He says it __eats combs."  This last statement was delivered in all seriousness, and Rin had to swallow hard to keep from giggling._

Her other friend stared, eyes widening.  _*Ayumi-kun, if Hei-san is really who I think he is, you just told me more than anybody else has ever known about the Kid—no siblings, an only child.  He's late teenaged by now, possibly a bit older… middle-class household, maybe…..  That doesn't narrow the field by much if I was actively trying to find out his identity, but it DOES help some.  Maybe I had better sit down with you and ask you a few hundred questions--*_

_*--or--*_

_*--maybe not.*_

If he did, he'd be asking her to betray even more confidences; and if there was one thing Conan/Shinichi understood, it was _secrets.  He had what he had asked for:  a name, and he could figure out the rest on his own without trying to get a friend to break her word further.  Looking down now at Ayumi's tear-stained cheeks he felt like an absolute louse.  __*You're supposed to be a detective, aren't you?  So get busy and detect-- and quit being a First Class jackass about this.  Ayumi-kun's your friend, and you just thwacked her right in the feelings just like Mouri used to thwack you on the head.*  _

Conan heaved an internal sigh; an apology on a grand scale was in order…..  "Ayumi-kun?  Um… here."

"Hmph? (sniffle)  What—OH!"  Silently the boy offered his skateboard; she took it wonderingly.  As he handed it over he surreptitiously clicked a small switch on the underside, shifting the available speeds down considerably so she didn't manage to put herself in the hospital right off the bat.  "I—I'm sorry I made you cry.  And I'm sorry I got you to say his name… even though we needed it.  I'll show you how to use the skateboard tomorrow if you'd like….."

Ran sat back to one side out of the way, smiling a little in approval.  Her eyes met his over the little girl's enthusiastic exclamations, and he could practically read the message there:  _That's better, Shinichi.  That's much better._

He was blushing; he could feel it.  She *always* made him blush when she looked at him like that…..  A small grin crept out from beneath the blush, and he began answering Ayumi' questions about the skateboard, feeling much better about the world in general.

_*And we'll just have to see about you, 'Hei-san'; I don't know what your game is, but whatever it is, you won't get away with it.*_

_******************************************************************_

He wasn't going to get away with it; he could tell that right now.  "Aokooooo…… c'mon, Aoko—"

"Stuff it."  She marched him right along the hallway, one hand tight one the scruff of his jacket and the other gripping his school backpack.  "If you try to steal _one more thing from the kitchen, I'm going to let you have it but GOOD with something heavier than my mop.  Understand?"_

Kaito swallowed the last bite of his latest pilferage quickly.  _*Man, she can cook!*  "Yeah, yeah, got it.  I don't know why you're so bent out of shape, though—you made an absolute truckload of stuff for the party, there's no way you'd miss just one or two __little things…..  OW!  Quit it, Aoko!"  She had shifted her grip to the hair just above his collar, and he yelped slightly as his instinctive twisting to get away yanked things painfully.  "Ow!  __Help, police!  Assault and battery!  Manslaughter!  __Sexual harassment!  Heeeeelp!!"_

"OUT!"  

Pushing him into the main room of the house, her eyes flashed dangerously as she glared him down.  Nakamori Aoko, age 18 as of 11:07 p.m. that night, did *not* take her best friend's talents at food-thievery lightly—too many incidents in the past had proven that he not only *could* stash an amazing amount of eggrolls, candies, sweetbuns and other things away into hiding places unknown, he _*WOULD* if at all possible.  Sometimes she wondered just how he had stolen that entire carton of eggs one Spring day when they were twelve; it had simply disappeared from the table, and her father had assumed that they had been thrown out by mistake.  When they showed up the next morning on her doorstep in an American-style Easter basket (ornately if amateurishly dyed and decorated), she had simply rolled her eyes and cracked the shell on one, intending to eat it._

If only he had *boiled* them first, he wouldn't have gotten hit with her mop after she washed the raw egg off her hands…..

He fell over dramatically onto her couch in a sprawl of long, lanky limbs, his backpack sliding to the floor with a _thump!  "Nobody trusts me…." he moaned, throwing the back of one hand theatrically across his eyes.  "I'm just a poor, helpless, starving magician, soon to be forced to eat all my doves and turn my rabbit into stir-fry—look, see?  I'm just skin and bones!"  _

With a pathetic groan he tossed something yellow-white in her direction, and she instinctively caught it—then yelped as she flung the life-sized skeleton-hand back into the air.   "KAITO!!!  Where the hell--  Where did you _get  that?!?"_

From his loose-limbed collapse on the couch he grinned up at her; the rubber 'hand' bounced off the cushion beside his head.  "Oh, go right ahead and swear—don't mind me."

"Kaitooooo_oooo__……"  A boiling-point was rapidly being reached--_

The young man smirked, dark blue eyes gleaming with humor.  "That novelty shop down on Yakumo Way—you know, the one with the neon flamingo on the sign?  Early Halloween stuff; it _is only a month away or so, y'know."_

She knew.  The custom wasn't celebrated throughout Japan, but it might as well have been considering how he had adopted and perpetuated it through their school.  Ever since he had discovered the Western holiday as a child he had positively *gloried* in it, choosing _that day out of all the rest of the year for his wildest pranks and tricks…  Previous years' pranks had included (but not been confined to) exploding topiary, peculiar 'prizes' turning up in school lunches (sometimes mobile, sometimes not), carefully choreographed school-desk dances (the desks had danced, not the students) and the appearance of random and bizarre livestock in unusual places (lockers, pockets, light-fixtures, backpacks… Aoko would remember finding a live and decidedly unhappy squid on her lunch-tray as long as she lived; she __still couldn't eat the things).  He hadn't quite managed to top the one he pulled in tenth grade as yet (how he had arranged for absolutely *everyone's* undergarments to turn bright fuchsia on command she hadn't a clue), but he was always trying….. and God Alone knew what he was going to come up with this year._

Aoko had a feeling it would be something—_special.  After all, they were graduating soon….._

She gave him another glare.  "You stay _right here, got it?  Or I swear I'll—I'll serve nothing but __fish at my party!  Fish-shaped eggrolls, fish-shaped cookies, fried fish, broiled fish, fishcakes, fish—"_

"Okay, okay, okay!" Kaito said hastily, wincing.  "Got it.  I'll just huddle here and starve for a while….."  He flopped back again to lie dejectedly on the couch, his hand drooping back across his eyes as he yawned.  With that peculiar grace that no-one except Kuroba Kaito seemed to possess, he stretched like a cat… and then seemed to fall almost instantly asleep, his breathing slowing, his fingers relaxing.

Aoko had seen him do this before—and she never failed to appreciate the effect, although it would take the most painful tortures imaginable to drag an admission out of her.  That long-limbed body, so restless….. loose and boneless now, still at last—well, for the moment.  It never lasted long.  But right now the afternoon sun was slanting across his face between the window-blinds, throwing everything into sharp relief; she could see how it crept beneath the back of his hand and outlined the shape of Kaito's one visible eye (closed; he had absurdly long eyelashes for a guy) in vivid, spiky silhouette.  The nervous hands were quiet for a change, the fingers narrow and strong with years of control; he had pushed his sleeves back, and Aoko could see the long muscles of his arms molded by the sunlight in smooth curves and swells.

She didn't even realize that she had been just standing there, staring, until he turned his head and blinked at her from beneath his hand.  "Aoko?  What is it?"

The young woman started, falling back a step.  "Uh—um, nothing.  Just thinking."  She hesitated, then shrugged and turned to walk back down the hall towards the kitchen.  Behind her she heard Kaito settling back down onto the couch with a sigh.

_*What did you think you were doing, anyway?* she snarled angrily to herself.  Standing there like an idiot, just __watching him—it was just Kaito, for God's sake, just the same boy she had known since she was a kid….. the same boy she had laughed at, gotten in trouble with, shouted at, worried over and argued with for the bulk of her lifetime.  What was __WRONG with her lately, anyway?_

It had to be the birthday; right, that was it.  She swung into the kitchen, knocking a spoon off the counter in her haste; it clattered on the floor and she muttered beneath her breath as she stooped to pick it up.  Birthdays…..  They were a bad idea, anyway; so you were getting older, big deal—what was one more year?  _*I mean, look at last year's party—it was fine and all that, but Kaito didn't even come!  Not that I care… but he said he would, and he didn't… he's SUCH an idiot sometimes; rude, thoughtless, forgetful….. of course, later on he put on that fireworks display and spelled my name out down the side of a skyscraper and EVERYBODY was talking about it for days--*_

_*I guess it was a pretty good birthday, after all…..*_

But this year—why did this year feel so *different*?  Was it just because they were graduating, because they were both going to be considered adults?  As she methodically began to wash the next sink-full of dishes, Aoko had to admit that that was a pretty big 'just', really.  Was that why she was _looking at Kaito so-- so differently?_

Or was it him?  This had been going on for _months now, this stupid change in how she was seeing him.  Sometimes she almost thought he had been looking at her differently too, but—   She thunked a cup down onto the drainer to one side of the sink with more violence than was really necessary.  Had __he done something to make him look so—to make those long limbs and that stupid face of his so—_

_*Aaaaargh!!*_

Aoko swore to herself as she scrubbed with a particular vengeance at the last pan, dredging up some of her father's more interesting words.  _*I really need to stop that—it's a bad habit.*   Sometimes it felt so *good* to let off a little steam, though—hence her mop.  What had started as a silly sort of retaliation had become a habit, then an instinctual response… and, oddly enough, __that was when she had first started really looking at Kaito.  _

_*If he wasn't so damned graceful, if he didn't MOVE like that… nobody else moves like that.  And nobody but me gets to really see how other people move when they're being chased—how many other girls actually take off in hot pursuit?*  The police term slipped into the language of her thoughts with the ease of long familiarity; as she grew older, she had found herself adopting more and more of her father's attitudes and habits—though not, she congratulated herself, his bull-headedness and tendency towards tunnel-vision._

Most people didn't have such a *physical* relationship with anybody else (well, aside from the romantic kind)— she knew how Kaito moved, how he would respond if she swung something like her mop at him, how he would dodge and duck and leap—

---how his eyes gleamed with laughter as he avoided a swing, how he seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once—

The young woman sighed, wiping her hands on a dishtowel; the kitchen was warm and rather pungent right now, scented with ginger and the pepper she had used earlier that day.  The faintest of cool breezes fluttered the somewhat frayed curtains over the sink (idly Aoko noted one more time that she really needed to replace them before they fell apart), sending a single, clean note of early Autumn air into the room.  It moved through the scented lukewarm stuffiness like a ray of sunlight, and she lifted her head to breathe it in.

_*That's how he is, really; that's part of the fascination—he's sort of like that breath of wind.  Different.  Stupid Kaito—he's such a bother and he gets on my nerves—but he's not like everybody else, not at all, and I just can't help but watch him; he makes everybody around him look dull as… as dishwater.*  Aoko sighed, leaning back for a second—__just a second, she told herself—to enjoy the breeze._

* * * * * * * * *

Meanwhile, back in the main room…..

_*…..zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…..zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz……….... zzzsnerkkk?*_

Two dark blue eyes opened from beneath the back of a hand.  _*She's gone?  ….. right, I can hear dishes clattering; she must be back in the kitchen.  Good-- now I can get to work.*_

With a prolonged yawn he streeeeeeeetched, scratching at his hair with one hand and feeling in his pockets with the other.  _*Mmmmm….. tape, string, wire, pressure sensors… a little of this, a bit of that…..  Perfect.  And she'll be a little while—couldn't pick a better time for setup.  Heh—  'Trust your friends, but deal the cards yourself'.  Time to deal a few cards off the bottom of the deck.*   Stretching one last time, he picked up his backpack from the floor and extracted some of the larger materials as well.  __*Timer….. projector….. specially-treated Rosacea Alba Suaveolens…..*_

The next few minutes were busy ones as he attached things here, adjusted things there, hid things everywhere…..  He'd been planning Aoko's "birthday trick" for the last few months and it took more than a little preparation to set up.  If everything went right, she'd remember *this* one for the rest of her life.  If it went wrong… well, he'd probably regret it for the rest of _his.   This trick was as important to him as any of his heists._

And speaking of heists—

He'd been planning *another* kind of trick for days now; a bit different from his usual line of work this time, not the normal snatch of a precious gemstone or piece of elaborate jewelry…  Oh no, _this was a lot more intriguing; more difficult, too, in its way.  As Kaito carefully ran a small, insignificant-looking line of wire along the edge of the carpet, he grinned a little to himself in anticipation, feeling the usual rush and rise of excitement deep down at the thought of his next 'acquisition'…..  _

The local University was holding a really interesting display of Western and Eastern jewelry, from places as distant as Russian or nearby as China — and one of them had an odd reputation behind it, complete with rumored powers of immortality.  Total myth and fairytales, he was certain… but if it just _happened to be the Pandora Gem, well—he needed to know, didn't he?  It wouldn't do for anybody __else to get hold of it first, especially the bastards who had killed his father…..  __*Heh; MY gem.  Lowlife thieves and murderers need not apply.*_

The grand opening of the exhibit was next Friday at 10 a.m.—he really hated daylight heists as a general thing (and they didn't suit his image at ALL), so he'd have to think about how to handle this one; he had a few ideas, actually.  As Kaito clipped the last wire and screwed in the last bulb, he smiled smugly; convenient of the college to hold the show in a windowless building, all high-tech, modernistic architecture— in a couple of days he'd have to head over and make a few arrangements for _that little magic trick._

The thing was, he needed to strike quickly.  Kaito was certain he wasn't the only person to pick up on his target's history—the Bad Guys were sure to be around.  It wouldn't be the first time and it wouldn't be the last (unless, of course, this _WAS the Pandora Gem)._

So…..  Daylight Heist Time, maybe?  He'd have to figure out a suitably-intriguing announcement to Nakamori ASAP.  _*Oh well…..*  He shrugged, stuffing the last of his tools into his pockets and checking the settings of the projector unit; handy little thing, that, barely more than six inches tall and beautifully designed—he had found it (of all places) in an online catalogue of kid's toys.  He admired it one last time, glanced around, and carefully tucked it away in its place at the bottom of an empty trashcan to sit well-hidden beneath the plastic liner.  __*Hey-- maybe Ayumi-chan'd like this later on—bet she'd have a blast with it.*_

Ayumi-chan…..

_*Wonder how things went for her?  Poor kid—hope it wasn't too traumatic.  Bet I'll know pretty soon…..  There's no freaking WAY the Shrimp wouldn't figure out it was me, sooner or later; better be careful and check for runty little figures in the shadows wherever I go for a while.  Not that I expect being extra careful to really do much good—Kudo's way too good at what he does, Shrimp or not-- but I'd rather orchestrate our next meeting myself, just like last time when he was in the hospital.*  He grinned at the memory, flopping back onto the couch and regarding the room with a critical eye; good, it looked just the same as before.  Aoko had already cleaned in there, so his little 'improvements' weren't likely to be disturbed.  Good._

Kaito chuckled; then his rather manic grin softened considerably as he thought of how Aoko had just stood there, _staring at him from the doorway, thinking he was asleep…..  A thrill of warmth seemed to run the length of his spine as he recalled her eyes and how he had felt as her gaze brushed over him like the softest of feathers, familiar and strange and wonderful and frightening all at one and the same time—_

_*Just work like you're supposed to, okay?* he thought at his gizmos; it was almost a prayer.  __*Just do what I designed you to do…..*_

_*….. and THEN we should see some fireworks…..*_

_******************************************************************_

"Ayumi-chan?  What are you doing?"  The little girl's mother paused on her way to the bathroom; her daughter sat at her desk, pyjama'd legs crossed Indian-fashion in the wooden chair.  From the doorway Yoshida Miiri could hear the scribble of some sort of writing implement—markers or some such thing?

"Drawing….."  The child's voice was preoccupied, her head bent over her work; the tip of her tongue stuck out of one side of her mouth and her brows were crooked down.  Her mother wandered up, smiling, to peer at what was so absorbing her child.

Several crumpled pages in the wastecan gave evidence that she wanted to get this drawing right; at the moment she seemed happy with what she had done—she was adding in color now, working carefully in between the lines—and her mother beheld what appeared to be a drawing of a woman.  Blonde hair with a little brown mixed in, bangs cutting across the forehead at a ragged angle, the subject of her daughter's artwork seemed to have a serious look on her face (the mouth was a straight line) and was holding a— beaker? and wearing a long white jacket of some sort.  A lab coat, decided Yoshida Miiri, cocking her head to one side much as her daughter so often did.  The second, smaller figure in the drawing looked rather like Ayumi's usual self-image sketch, but why had the child drawn herself with her hands over her mouth?  "'Yumi-chan?  Is this one of your teachers?"  

The little girl squinted critically at her drawing, pausing for a second.  "….. um…. No, but she's at school with me….."

Back to work went the markers; _scribble, scribble…..  __*She must work there, then.  Perhaps one of the higher grades' teachers?*  "It's a very nice drawing—you must like her very much to work so hard on this.  Is it a present?"_

_Scribble, scritch…..  "Uh huh.  She's one of my friends."  __Scribble, scritch-scratch-scribble….._

Her mother chuckled; the small, dark head was bent so *seriously* over the desk—she could have been a college student, absorbed in her studies or working on her thesis.  "Well, don't stay up _too late, 'Yumi-chan—you've got school tomorrow, remember?"  Miiri tickled the back of her child's neck a little, making the little girl giggle and squirm slightly.  "Oyasumi, Ayumi…"  She dropped a kiss on the child's head._

"Oyasumi, 'Kaasan…"  _Scribble, scritch-scritch, scribble…..  The door closed behind her mother._

Ayumi sat back in her chair, frowning down at her artwork as she nibbled thoughtfully on the end of her marker.  She hoped that Ai-kun would like it— after all, the other girl would probably be upset when she heard that somebody had figured out about Rin and Conan…..

_Ran and Shinichi, said her mind's voice; she shook her head.  Names were funny things; she still called Ai 'Haibara-san' sometimes— her sempai was hard to get to know easily, and that had kept them all using her more formal name for a long time.  Actually Ayumi had started calling her 'Ai-kun' or sometimes even 'Ai-chan' only a few months back; for some reason she had started wondering if her friend might like it better._

Ai was a sort of _lonely person, thought Ayumi, carefully adding a few bits more with a yellow marker; she needed more friends.  Maybe when she had been a grownup she hadn't ever learned how to make them—if that were so, then at least she had a chance to do it now.  So Ayumi was determined to let her know that she was __still her friend… even if Ai-kun __had been a grownup._

A yawn interrupted the girl's work; she leaned back again and stretched, arms above her head.  As she slid from her chair she blinked at the clock beside her bed—9:00 already?  She _*had* stayed up late!  Hopefully Ai-kun would be happy with her picture—it was sort of an apology and a present and a promise all in one—_

Folding the paper carefully, she tucked it into her school backpack and turned off the light.  As she settled into the cool sheets and the warmth of her quilt, she tucked her hands behind her head (like Hei-san on the branch the other day, she thought) and stared sleepily at the darkened ceiling.  Two years before 'Kaasan had painted stars above her bed with glow-in-the-dark paint; it had faded a little with time, but the designs still retained enough luminosity to be visible.  They had started learning about constellations at school, so while she waited for sleep to come Ayumi traced what patterns she could remember from star to star with one finger, drawing them in the air.

_*Stars…..  People make wishes on stars.  I wonder if Rin and Conan-kun—Ran and Shinichi—did that when they were little?  The first time, I mean.  I wonder why people make wishes on stars and not the moon?  The moon's bigger, maybe it could make bigger wishes come true…..*  She yawned; her eyes began to drift closed.  It was hard to hold them open when you were sleepy, anyway, so she closed them and spent a minute or two wondering why it was so much easier to be tired when it was dark than when it was light._

The covers were a little too heavy tonight; her window was closed, and the room was a little too warm.  Still yawning, Ayumi pushed the quilt and sheets back and slid out of bed, pattering over to her balcony-door and clicking the lock open.  'Kaasan didn't know she sometimes slept with the door open; she had so far managed to close it before she left the room.  Sometimes it felt so good, just having a breeze blowing in….. and you could hear the city below, so far away; nothing could hurt her up here, nothing could reach her balcony.  Ayumi spent a few moments just standing there, looking out at the cloudy sky; no stars tonight.  But it still was nice, even though she could hear the traffic blaring way, way down there—beeps and roars, screeches and dull hums and the swish of movement.

As she turned to go back to bed, she caught a sweet scent; was that--?  _*My rosebush!  It IS blooming!*  And it was—two delicate half-opened buds, just wide enough to release a heady, wonderful aroma that made her dart back to the door and out onto the balcony in excitement.  Cupping small hands around the blooms she breathed in their own breathe, vibrant and alive; __*Oooooo… two of them are blooming, two of them—  Cool!!* _

Ayumi had never grown anything before, except for some radishes for her mother (at school, though—they all got to plant just a few seeds in a window box and take them home later; hers would probably have looked and tasted a lot better if she hadn't kept digging them up to see how they were doing.)  Now, slipping back to bed with the scent of the roses still on her fingers, she began to wonder what else she could grow on her balcony…..

Tomorrow she'd talk to her 'Kaasan about it.  She turned on her side so that the two blooms were visible from her place on the pillow, gleaming like dim stars in the half-light/half-dark of the city.  _*Stars again….. they're prettier than the ones on my ceiling, too.  AND they smell nice.  Can you wish on roses the way you wish on stars?  ….. If I could… what would I wish for?*_

_*I think I'd wish for… more white roses.  And some new markers, 'cause mine are starting to get scratchy…..  And maybe to learn more magic tricks from Hei-san, and maybe how to really throw my voice.  Or to get better at imitating other people's voices—when I tried to imitate Mitsuhiko's, everybody laughed…..  I still think I sounded just like him, though… and I can do Conan's already…  I sure made him jump when I did that, and Rin-kun wouldn't stop laughing.  She said I did it just right, and he turned bright red…..  I wonder if he got embarrassed when he was Shinichi-niisan too?*_

She yawned, eyes completely closed now; she could still smell her flowers on the breeze.

_*More roses, more tricks, and….. and….. I don't know.  Why do people always get three wishes in the fairytales?  …..And… what if you can't think of a third wish?  Do you lose it, or can you give it away…?*  Half-asleep, her breathing began to slow a little as she drifted.  __*I need… to think… of another wish…..*_

_*I… wish…..*_

_*……..wish……...*_

_……….…………………._

Ayumi's thoughts slid away into dreams, flavored with the scent of roses and the sounds of the city night.

*********************************************************

_*Party!-PARTY!-Party!-PARTY!-Party!-PARTY!--*   Kaito's thoughts bounced along happily in rhythm with the pounding music coming from the main room of Aoko's house; he loved parties._

His hands moved without much in the way of conscious direction, one grabbing plastic cups from a pack and the other scooping and flinging ice towards the containers with absolute accuracy (he hadn't dropped a cube yet).  As a cup filled, it would be tossed absentmindedly to smack down onto a tray, perfectly upright.  

_*Party!-PARTY!-Party!-PARTY!-Party!-PARTY!--* _

The _"Aoko Hits The Big 18" celebration was in full swing; her schoolmates were everywhere, sprawled over any furniture or piece of floor available, dancing, munching, talking and talking and talking (or attempting to, at least) over the blare of noise.  Streamers hung from the ceiling, any number of presents had appeared back by the cake, and somehow a number of people's personal possessions (hats, jewelry, the occasional sock) and ended up hanging from the light-fixtures.  When a pointed question or two had been sent Kaito's way regarding the impromptu 'decorations', he had simply grinned and spread his hands with a shrug… and absolutely no attempt to look innocent._

_*Got a reputation to uphold, after all,* he thought smugly, tossing the last cup towards the tray; it landed with a light clatter, and he took that tray and two others out to the main drinks table.  __*Party!-PARTY!-Party!-PARTY!--  Wonder where Aoko-kun's gotten to?  Hope she's having a good time--*_

Her father had vacated the house for the evening; with what was a rare show of good sense, Nakamori Senior had decided that this would be a good opportunity to visit a couple of friends on the west coast overnight.  While he _did tend towards being a suspicious and occasionally over-protective father (when he could be bothered, that is), he wasn't stupid.  So he had gruffly wished his daughter a happy birthday, issued any number of warnings, threatened immediate and painful death to __*anyone* he found out had done anything to her whatsoever, caught a train, and left Aoko to have a good time on her own._

_*Now WHERE did she get to?  Gotta be around here somewhere--*_

She wasn't in sight, but as he deftly slid the filled cups onto the table a slightly amused voice came from behind:  "You make a pretty good maid, Kuroba; maybe you ought to take it up professionally."

Leaning nonchalantly against the angle of the nearest doorway, Hakuba Saguru smirked a little at his sempai.  His blonde hair was slightly disarrayed, and he looked oddly unfamiliar out of his usual school uniform or the suits he seemed to favor when out in public.  The round vowels of his upperclass British schooling contrasted oddly with his Japanese; crossing his arms, he favored Kaito with one raised eyebrow.  "Looks like you've even managed to acquire a uniform; it looks… interesting.  But then, white _is your color, ne?"_

Kaito glanced down at the ruffled white apron he had whimsically put on over his black jeans and sweatshirt (he had found it in the kitchen); the contrast was oddly official-looking, and he grinned at the not-so-subtle hint the other teenager made towards his suspected 'occupation.'  "Really?  Thought I looked pretty good in black, myself.  And you know what they say— 'Don't quit your day job.....'  Good advice, huh, Saguru-chan?"

The familiarity of the diminutive made the other grimace in irritation; he shrugged resignedly, a faintly sarcastic gleam in his light eyes.  "Save it.  Considering that I don't tend to take advice from—"

A crash and several feminine shrieks from the front door made him break off his commentary ("Thank You," muttered Kaito, rolling his eyes heavenwards); several latecomers had all tried to crowd through at once, including Aoko's close friend Keiko.  She seemed to be lugging a rather clumsily-wrapped box, and when she saw Kaito she made a beeline straight towards him.

_*Uh oh…..*  He tried to slip into stealth-mode and out through the crowd around the table, but Keiko was persistant and quite capable of ruthlessly trampling innocent bystanders without a second thought.  As she grabbed him by his arm, she hissed out __"KAITO-KUN!!  You've gotta help me hide this!!" and he winced, eyeing the box with disfavor._

It seemed to have airholes.  This did _NOT bode well.  "Uhhhhh…. Why?"  He could hear Hakuba snickering, damn him._

The girl rolled her eyes.  "BeCAUSE it's a present for Aoko-kun, and if I sit it down for long it's gonna start _wailing and try and get out –"  She squawked slightly as the box shifted in her hands; a muffled sound came from within, almost totally hidden by the thump of the music and the loud conversation on all sides:  __"Mew?? Mewyow?"_

Kaito stared.  "You… got her a _cat??  Keiko, she's gonna have your hide, you __know that—"  _

The present was really moving now; as the girl shifted somewhat frantically for a better hold, a scrabbling, digging noise was audible from one corner.  The paper around one airhole rustled sharply, and Keiko yeeped slightly as one claw hooked *right* through the cardboard and into her finger.  _"Yow-wow?? Mew!  MROWOW WOWW!!"  The thing in the box seemed to have quite a vocabulary._

"HERE!!  You take it—she won't suspect _YOU—"  She thrust the container into Kaito's arms; he yelped, grabbing it at the last moment.  Behind his back Hakuba was now beginning to laugh outright, something that rarely happened.  The teenager in the maid's apron shot him a dirty look over one shoulder, then turned back around to the girl.  "Um, Keiko, of __ALL the people here you think Aoko-d think ****__*I* was innocent?  Hell, all I have to do is __*look* at her and she suspects something—"_

"Not without reason…"  Snicker, snicker.

"Shut _up, Saguru-chan.  Can't we—I dunno, hide it under the sink or something 'til she opens her presents?"  The 'present' bounced a little in his hands as its contents began a no-holds-barred attempt to shred its way through the bottom; muffled cat-curses and imprecations began to fill the air, drawing curious looks from the nearer partygoers.  "Ah, __crap--!  Little bugger's got __teeth—"  Kaito yanked an exploratory finger back from an airhole.  When he glanced back up, Keiko had hightailed it off into the crowd.  "Dammit!"_

Ignoring the continued laughter from behind his back, he glanced at the clock; 10:25 p.m.—Aoko'd be opening her presents in a few minutes, anyway…..  _*Sigh.*  Gingerly he hefted the box; it wasn't that heavy, after all, or that big—_

Raising it to head-level, he peered in through one of the airholes.  A blazing sky-blue eye met his and he drew back in alarm.  _*Blue??  WHERE did Keiko get this thing?  If it's a Siamese, that'd account for the vocals, but they're pretty damned expensive--*  Claws tried to widen the hole, attached to distinctly white-furred toes; *not* a Siamese, then.  Maybe the cat or fiend from Hell or whatever-it-was had something exotic in its ancestry, though; he had heard once that every kitten in a litter could have a different father.  __*Heh; this one's mom must've gotten creative—DAMmit, there goes the claws again!!  I take it back, daddy must've been a bakemono, not a Siamese--*_

No good could come of this, he was certain.  _*Oh well…..*_

He wound his way through the crowd towards the heap of presents occupying a corner; carefully sliding the box beneath a table to one side (and muttering "Back, back, Foul Beast From Hell!") the teenager wiped blood from an abused digit or two off on his shirtcuff—he just couldn't bring himself to get it all over the apron.  _*Better take this off, anyways; I've done my duty to the party—if we run out of any more stuff, people can fend for themselves.  WHERE is Aoko, anyway?*_

_*Oh--  THERE she is….. That's better; she looks more like Aoko-chan now.  Yeah.*_

Earlier, when the first guests arrived, Nakamori Aoko had been dressed up and nervous in an outfit he had never seen her wear before, a cornflower-blue dress of simple cut… and devastating effect.  Apparently she had decided to go all out tonight (Hell, she was entitled; it _*was* her eighteenth, after all).  It wasn't that the outfit was all that revealing or anything—no, there was just something about it… about how the fabric was cut to drape from shoulder to shoulder in soft folds, how the waist seemed to mold itself around her and then flow gracefully around a pair of legs that (he had to admit) really looked pretty damned good….._

He was a lot more used to seeing her in her school uniform, or maybe in the simple outfits she tended to wear around home—it wasn't unknown over the last year or so for her to be seen out climbing the roof in jeans as scruffy as Kaito's, fixing a leak with a hammer and a determined expression.  Her father never seemed to have much time to do anything around the house, so most of the repairs were up to her—or Kaito, who helped out when needed.  So jeans and t-shirts fit his mental image of Aoko a lot better than the elegant dress, no matter how good she looked in it—and she _did look good, but—_

But now—

Her hair was down now, loosened from the careful way she had pinned it up earlier; it fell about her shoulders in its usual disarray, thick-locked and heavy.  Sitting cross-legged with a few friends, Aoko had apparently forgotten about being stylish and all eighteen and everything; she was relaxed now, easy and comfortable on a floor cushion with her sleeves pushed up and her face flushed.

_*She looks… well, idiot, go ahead and THINK it, anyway, even if you can't say it:  beautiful.  Aoko looks beautiful.  She looked good earlier, but this is… much nicer.*  He simply watched her for a moment, not really thinking anything coherent other than __beautiful.  As if she had heard him, she suddenly looked up and met his eyes across the room; her already pink cheeks reddened even more, and she opened her mouth as if to say—_

_"DRUMROLL, PLEASE!!!"  A thunderous clanging noise filed the air, coming from the doorway behind Kaito; he jumped like a scalded cat __("Mwow?" said the box under the table) as three of their classmates filed into the room, banging on pots from the kitchen with wooden spoons.  Kaito sagged back against the wall beside the present-pile as they marched up to Aoko and began dragging her to her feet.  She protested, laughing, but one of the impromptu drummers (__*What's his name?  Oh, Kentaro-kun, right*) shook his head vehemently._

"PRESENT TIME!" he chorused gleefully, to loud cheers from the audience and his fellow 'musicians'.  Aoko, still laughing, allowed herself to be dragged to the pile of gifts.  Kaito blew out a sigh of relief (or possibly disappointment; what had she been about to say, anyway?) and leaned back against the wall to watch.

The next twenty minutes or so were a frenzy of ripped wrapping paper, opened boxes and squeals of excitement or howls of laughter; people tended to give Aoko-kun _interesting gifts.  Privately Kaito wondered just what she was going to do with the three-foot-tall stuffed panda, but that just sort of added to the gift, he guessed.   CDs, books, that sort of thing-- __*Nice prezzies,* he thought with a smile, quirking one eyebrow at the English-made scarf that Hakuba had presented her with.  __*Dream on, 'Saguru-chan'—you're not her type.*_

A small voice somewhere inside added softly: _*Or I hope not, anyway…*_

She was wearing the scarf.  Of course, she was *also* wearing the fuzzy bedroom slippers, new CD headphones and the Micky Mouse hat one of her friends had brought back from EuroDisney.  So maybe that didn't count.

A sudden sharp pain in his ankle made him give a sudden hop and yelp; *_WHATtheHell__??..........  Oh.*  Thudding noises and an extended, swiping furry limb equipped with kitten-claws indicated that Keiko's 'gift' was getting closer to freedom all the time.  "Uhhhh, Keiko?  Your… present?  I think it wants to have a word with you….." said Kaito, picking the girl out from the crowd.  She made a horrified face and violently shook her head; Aoko watched quizzically as her friend attempted to backpedal her way through the crowd with no success._

The young man grinned somewhat nastily, avoiding another swipe of claws.  _*Ohhhhh NO way, Keiko; you brought the little monster, it's YOUR present to Aoko, and second thoughts won't get you out of this one.*  "Hey, Aoko-kun?  Keiko's got something for you down here…… she asked me to keep an eye on it for you; must be something really special….."  He trailed off teasingly; Aoko gave him a suspicious look, but peered under the table anyway.  The room quieted down a little as she slowly pulled out the box (which now looked somewhat worse to wear, due to the extended claw marks and gnawing around each airhole)._

"Um, Aoko?  You might wanna be sort of careful….."  _*You might want to put on battle armor…..*_

Aoko gave him another suspicious glance, then poked gently at a hole; the box which had previously given every indication of containing anything from Darth Vader's Personal Meanness Trainer to a chibified Fiend From The Pit  was suddenly silent and still—

_"Mew?"_

Aoko opened the box.

_"Mew?__  Meow??"_

"Oooohhhhh………  Oh, it's so CUTE!!"

_purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr__…………_

It was fluffy and white and small and distinctly did *not* look like a Foul Demonic Beast From The Depths Of Hell.  The kitten blinked cute blue eyes cutely at its new owner and yawned in a very cute way, oozing cute-waves in all directions simultaneously.  Kaito felt his eyes bulging; Keiko looked ready to faint from relief.

_*No freaking way…  It IS a bakemono, if it can do stuff like go from being Godzilla to Hello Kitty in a split second…..*  The teenager blinked at the ball of white fuzz in bemusement; Aoko was cuddling it and it was kneading its paws in bliss, eyes closed.  __*Okay, maybe I just got a bad impression; maybe it just didn't like being in the box or something.*_

That was when the kitten opened its blue eyes again and stared at Kaito with what could only be called a nasty grin; the white tail lashed once or twice, and he saw the claws flex.  He swallowed.  _*Okay; guess that clears THAT up.  It's a Fiend From The Pit, right enough.*_

Aoko was thanking Keiko (who looked understandably relieved, if a little shocked and nervous; she stroked the kitten's head gingerly and got a distinctly menacing look from beneath a fluffy paw as the kitten batted at her finger.  Other people were crowding around with cries of "Kawaiiiii!", but the girl hugged her new pet a little protectively, saying it was "shy".

_*Yeah, right, shy as a vulture on a carcass in the desert,* thought Kaito as his scratched ankle gave him a twinge.  "So, Aoko—what're you gonna name him?"_

_*I've got a few suggestions--  Beelzebub, Satan, Lucifer, Mephistopheles, Old Nick…..*_

The girl frowned down at the fluffball that had now settled itself comfortably into her arms; it (he? she?) blinked innocent blue eyes up at her, still emitting cuteness-waves.  The kitten tapped at her nose cutely with one cute paw.  "I think I'll name him… her… whatever…. uhm….."  The roomful of people quieted a little in anticipation……..

"…….. Spot."

_"SPOT???" chorused a dozen or so voices, accompanied by puzzled looks.  Giggles came from the crowd, and Kaito blinked in puzzlement.  __*Spot???*_

Aoko got that slightly belligerent look of hers, usually a prelude to a mop incident.  "Well, it _IS a spot—a white one; there's not another color on her.  Him.  Whatever."  She snuggled the kitten close; it purred, one eye barely slitted open to glare balefully at Kaito, who resolved to keep a careful eye on the creature….._

….. from a safe distance.

_*Oh well; better that she's snuggling a kitten-or-whatever-it-is than a few other creatures I can think of.*  He could see Hakuba a dozen feet away or so, looking distinctly annoyed for some reason; he was--??  Yeah, he __WAS… glaring at the kitten.  It smirked back.  Coolness; maybe he didn't like cats.  The teenager grinned a little smugly to himself; __he liked cats—it was just that he wasn't entirely certain that the mutant hairball Aoko was currently holding was specifically a normal feline.  Or even an abnormal one, for that matter…..  Cats did not, in his experience, tend to smirk._

_*Hm—what time is it?  Oh MAN, eleven on the dot!  Better take care of a few things here and there…..*  He realized belatedly that he had never taken off the apron, so Kaito put it to good use by playing the maid again; gathering up soda-cans, plates and other miscellaneous trash, he dumped the whole lot into a certain wastecan and hauled it into the kitchen for emptying, as well as a few bits of necessary preparation.  A minute or two later (minus the apron), the young magician carted the wastecan back out into the room and plunked it down dead-center._

People were beginning to gather; everybody knew the drill from parties past:  Aoko had been born a few minutes after eleven p.m., and that's when her 'birthday trick' would take place.  Kaito chuckled softly, half-sitting on the trashcan's rim; a tap on his shoulder made him turn his head, and he was looking straight into Aoko's eyes.  "What are _you grinning about?" she said, a note of teasing replacing the more common annoyed sharpness of her tone; "Anybody'd think this was your birthday, not mine…."_

He just shook his head, not really knowing how to explain.  In a way, the chance to show off one of his more grandiose tricks _was as good as a gift; how often did he get to do just that, after all?  Aside from his episodes as Kid, of course—and he couldn't talk about those.  Sometimes, in his heart of hearts and at his weakest moments Kaito almost wished he would slip up somehow…. that Aoko would find out.  That they could talk about it, get over the misunderstandings and anger and all the rest—_

That he could just _stop lying….. to somebody, at least._

But _THAT wasn't going to happen anytime soon, so— he'd just have to take the chances he was given.  Or the ones he arranged…..  __*'Trust your friends… but deal the cards yourself.'  Good advice too, better than 'Don't quit your day job' anytime.  But I don't think I'll pass it along to Hakuba, though.*_

The clock now said eleven-oh-six; _showtime__…..  He cleared his throat, feeling the usual excitement bubbling up underneath everything.  This was going to be __*special*._

Slipping off the lip of the trashcan, Kaito stood up straight; at the proper twist of a wrist, a set of miniature relays slid into his palm from one sleeve as he tucked it into one pocket.  Raising the other hand above his head, he called out loudly:  "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!  LIGHTS AND YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE…"

The lights and thumping music immediately cut off; it didn't escape a few people's appreciative notice that no-one had touched any buttons or switches.

As the darkened room quieted, the young magician clicked his fingers once.  "Excuse me, everybody?  I'd like to propose a toast to somebody we all know and occasionally run from….." (he ducked a sudden swing at his head) "…. Nakamori Aoko!!!"  Plastic cups, soda-cans clinked all over the room to a chorus of cheers; from nowhere he produced a wineglass full of something bubbly.  Raising it high, Kuroba Kaito turned towards the girl who was practically glowing in the dark by now from embarrassment; she had expected something like this, but….

"Happy Birthday, Aoko-kun."  His voice was unexpectedly gentle, and quite a number of Kaito's classmates blinked at this in the dark.  "Y'know, I _wanted to get you something special for tonight, but I couldn't think what to do.  So I thought maybe we all ought to go somewhere special __instead.  Whatcha think?"  She stared at him through the shadowy room, puzzled; an intrigued murmur came from the crowd….._

(Kaito pressed the first relay--)  "Let's see…… outside would be nice…….."

Gasps filled the room as walls, ceiling and the occasional person were suddenly covered with **_stars.  Stars everywhere, projected from an unknown source, glittering and gleaming in brilliant points of light and traceries of constellations, stars moving gently in stellar procession in every direction….._**

"And….. we need a proper atmosphere; how about a garden?"  (Sweating a little, he pressed the second set of switches; God, he hoped nothing had wilted yet…..)

More gasps as everywhere, *_everywhere*….. roses began to bloom.  Greenery crept out as the pure white buds seemed to open magically on top of bookcases, from around the backs of doors, along the edge of the carpet, the top of the stereo, the light fixtures, the pictures on the walls….. everywhere.  Their scent filled the room, cutting through the aroma of too many sweaty teenagers and a fair amount of clandestine alcohol._

The roses _glowed faintly in the dark; Kaito breathed a sigh of relief.  He hadn't been sure that the luminescence he had treated them with would keep on working, but apparently it had.  They didn't even look wilted, either._

Beside him Aoko was totally rigid with shock and astonishment; she stared around with huge eyes, taking in the starlit garden that her main room had become.  He friend's heart danced with glee as he clicked the last relay.  "One last thing—gotta have the right kind of music, too….."

He had found them online, the pieces that now began to play; a mixture, really—some of them were from various J-Pop artists Aoko liked, a few were from anime shows, a couple had come from Western groups ('Acoustic Alchemy' was one he was going to have to check into in the future, not to mention 'Battlefield Band').  All of it was liquid, beautiful… the kind of music you would want to listen to in a garden under the stars.

People were starting to dance all around them.  Kaito smiled at his friend's face, feeling amazingly giddy inside.  "Happy Birthday, Aoko," he said softly.  She just stared at him as if she had never seen him before, then hesitantly took a step or two towards him.

Somewhat to her surprise, the boy she had known all her life (and who she obviously thought was going to ask her to dance) stepped back and away.  "Meet me on the roof later, huh?" he said, a silly grin filling his face—

And then he was gone, back and out through the crowd, and Aoko found herself being clamored at by several other of her classmates to dance.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

_Outside Aoko's house, any number of her neighbors were disturbed by a wild, triumphant shout:  "YEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAH!!!!!"  Several reported later that they had seen a figure doing handsprings across her small yard, but it was late and the dark *did* tend to play tricks on people's eyes. _

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

A happy Kaito is a scary, scary thing.

He had bounced his way through the rest of the party (which he knew would be lasting into the wee hours, possibly even until dawn; it _was Aoko's eighteenth, after all).  Odd things had happened in his near vicinity, sometimes without his even being aware of them—the occasional dropped drink had quite improbably landed right-side-up, rather than all over people's legs; cigarettes had gone out repeatedly, unable to be relit (Kaito hated smoking), and his particular favorites kept popping up over and over on the CD player's supposedly-random selection.  _

If anybody had asked him about any of this he would have simply shrugged an innocent shrug and blinked guileless blue eyes in their direction; this, of course, would have only confirmed their suspicions and increased his reputation as a magician.  He might have scratched his head and wondered later on about poltergeist activity, however…..  

(The truth was, as with any good trick, a secret; but a serious study concerning his body's personal magnetic fields might have shown some interesting and somewhat disturbing results.)

Of course, there were also the _deliberate pranks and practical jokes—_

He had let the doves go home after their first few appearances from people's clothing, drinks, etcetera…  Aoko's new little hellion had suddenly leaped out of nowhere in a dove-bound trajectory (fortunately missing), and he hadn't wanted to risk the poor things anymore.  Spot sat on top of the TV for a while after that, visibly sulking and occasionally chewing on the single tailfeather he had managed to snatch; if looks could kill…..

Peculiar cards found their way into the poker game going on in the kitchen—Kaito's classmate Takeshi found himself staring bemusedly at _five Aces, none of which belonged in the deck they had started out with.   All of the Jacks were thumbing their noses, and the Kings suddenly seemed to bear a striking resemblance to Jackie Chan; as one, the poker players all looked accusingly at Kaito (who chuckled and stood up, cheerfully relinquishing his seat at the game to an onlooker).  As he walked out, several cards suddenly went __*POOF!* and turned into brief bursts of flame; the poker players looked glumly at each other's somewhat smoky faces, then shrugged and pulled out a fresh deck.  After all, they should've known better—it __was Kuroba-kun….._

Time passed; drinks were drank, consumables were consumed, and a Kitten From Hell finally went to sleep in the middle of the snacks table, snores occasionally interspersed with audible burps.  Kaito wandered from room to room, carefully avoiding seeing a certain person (he wasn't altogether sure why, but it just seemed appropriate—and if he could avoid the cops, he could damn well elude Aoko).  It was really late now, or early… it depended how you looked at it, since the clock had just clicked past four-thirty a.m.  The young magician yawned, snagging a handful of chips that Spot had managed to miss; from his vantage point in one of the small side-rooms he could just barely see Aoko from here—she was perched sideways on the arm of her couch in the next room.  It gratified Kaito no end to see one of his luminous roses stuck rather haphazardly in her hair.

He sighed happily and plopped down on a floor-cushion, stretching and leaning back against the room's sole overstuffed chair and bumping against the occupant's leg.  Said occupant made no objection; muted snores gave evidence that at least one of the partygoers had finally succumbed to either alcohol or weariness, and Kaito craned his neck around to peer up through the shadows.  The lights were still down, and it was hard to make the sleeper out at first….. they seemed to be blonde, though, and wearing a sort of preppy-looking sweater—

Oh.  It was_…  It was Hakuba Saguru.  Kaito felt his eyes widen and a huge grin steal across his face; this was just too, __TOO good a chance to pass up—  He closed his eyes briefly, almost feeling a lump in his throat.  __*Dad, wherever you are right now, THANK YOU if you had a hand in this.  I'd feel like I was betraying your memory if I let an opportunity like this one go by…..*_

_*Now, let's see…. Which pocket did I put that luminous stuff in?*_

Sometime later, a groggy Hakuba Saguru said his goodbyes to Aoko; if he had been a little more awake, he might have paid attention to the whispered comments and muffled giggles that trailed in his wake as he moved through the dimly-lit rooms.  Aoko's eyes had widened as he approached, certainly—she had seemed somewhere between taken aback and nearly overcome with some strong emotion as she stammered a goodnight in reply.  The weary blonde would-be detective plodded out the door without a second thought, heading for home and a strong cup of tea.

From his vantage point on the ridge of Aoko's steeply-slanted rooftop, Kaito watched him go with an admiring smile for his own handiwork; the glowing hearts and kiss-marks he had marked the blonde's face with while he dozed really suited him somehow—they just added a certain… charm.  _*Heh; that'll teach HIM to fall asleep anywhere near me-- next time I'll have to think of something special to do to his hair as well.  Spikes, maybe?*  He sat back on the roof, pocketing his camera and pondering just how much Hakuba would've forked over for the negatives, had they been for sale._

_"Very nice, Kaito-kun; very nice indeed."  The voice came from below, sultry and rather deep for a young woman's.  He sighed internally; __*Akako.  Wondered where she was….. probably pulling the wings off flies somewhere.*  He leaned over a bit, just enough to see off the edge of the roof.  __*Mmph?  Where—?*_

A footstep sounded behind him on the wood shingles.  _*Oh.  Great.  I'm waiting up here for Aoko, and instead I get the Wicked Witch of the West, only without the Flying Monkeys.  At least THEY were sort of cool…..*  Resignedly he twisted around a little on his narrow perch, sitting back crosslegged with his hands draped over his knees.  "Ohayou, Akako-kun."_

_"Konbanha, Kaito-kun.  It's still dark."  Her white teeth gleamed in the pre-dawn shadows as she smiled at him; he grunted noncommittally in answer, and she walked a few steps daintily across the roof's narrow ridge in her high-heeled pumps to pause perhaps a little too close to her intended target.  Koizumi Akako loomed over him, just a bit—but then, Akako seemed to __like looming over people._

She had looked pretty good tonight, he had to admit; her black and rather alarmingly low-cut dress clung tightly to her figure in all the right (wrong?) places, revealing what could be safely revealed and giving strong hints and nudges regarding the rest.  The skirt was amazingly tight and short, and if the outfit had been any skimpier Akako would quite possibly earned the dubious distinction of wearing what could only be considered a Gownless Evening Strap.

And for some reason unknown even to him, she left him totally cold.  Kaito could admire, could even appreciate; but there was no attraction whatsoever— instead, he found himself wondering just how _Aoko would look in a dress like that, her hair all loose down her back and a furious blush creeping across her face….._

_*Eeep!  Down, boy.*_

Dragging his mind back to business with some reluctance, he took a deep breath of the cool, clear air.  "What can I do for you, Akako-kun?" he asked, feeling a portion of his Kid poker-face sliding into place.

The dark-haired young woman continued to smile down at him, hands on hips.  "Now, just how should I answer that?  So _many possibilities….."  (Kaito felt a bead of sweat run down his neck.)  "But actually, I thought I'd just drop a word of warning or two in your ear."  She sighed, glancing away and across the darkened neighborhood; very few lights were on this early—_

--they might have been the only people awake in the entire world.  It made him shiver.  

"Warning?  About what?"  The young man tried not to sound too concerned… or ungrateful.  _*She's been right in the past, I have to admit—that time with the Clock Tower comes to mind in particular.  No idea why she keeps telling me stuff like this, not really… she creeps me out when she goes all Occult and everything.  Brrrrrr…..*_

Akako shrugged slightly, managing to turn the prosaic movement into something syncopated and complex.  "You might want to take a little extra care during your next few, ah, 'ventures'…..  This time of year usually favors those who move through the dark, but—I have a feeling your luck just might be lacking a little something right now."  She raised one fine brow critically.  "We wouldn't want to see ourselves listed in the headlines under "Unmasked At Last", now, _would we?"_

Kaito also shrugged (much more offhandedly).  "No idea what you're talking about, Akako.  But I'll take the warning as given.  Any clues as to why my luck would be out?  I haven't walked under any ladders lately, haven't broken any mirrors, and I've stayed away from black cats… up until now, that is."  He shot her a sideways glance, barely managing to make it a faint smile at the last second.  _*MAN, she's spooky when she gets like this.*_

Fortunately the young woman seemed to take the comparison as a compliment; she preened slightly, tossing her long hair over one bare shoulder.  "Ah well..… luck's an odd thing; one can only do so much with it—I've never really trusted luck myself.  But perhaps you've been lending it out lately?"  She chuckled softly at his perplexed scowl.  "Some people have a surplus of luck, while others have only the tiniest motes…  I've noticed that one can wish it to another's keeping; where have your concerns been lying, Kaito-kun?"

The young man on the roof-ridge shook his head irritably; "You ask the weirdest damned questions sometimes…..  What's wrong, doesn't your crystal ball tell you everything I say and do?"  His question was only half-sarcastic.  "Maybe you'd better go talk to all the _rest of the black cats in the neighborhood, or that little white fiend Aoko's taken under her wing—"_

The dark-haired woman actually shuddered, though her face did not change.  "That is _not a normal cat.  A little youkai in its ancestry, perhaps, or a shapeshifter or two….. and by the way, crystal balls are considered quite __passé these days."  She sniffed._

Akako tilted her head to one side then a little, a faintly puzzled expression replacing her usual sultriness.  "It's rather odd—I can't quite make it out—there's something in the way of what I'm seeing…..  And so very few things can cloud my perception:  extreme evil, extreme good, slyness, innocence…..  Who _have you been dealing with lately, Kaito-kun?"_

_*Innocence…..*   For some reason he thought briefly of Ayumi.  The young magician shrugged for the third time in their conversation; it seemed to be a good response to Akako's questions.  "Thanks for the warning; I'm make sure to look both ways when I cross the street today…"_

"Not just today.  _This week—not just today."  Her tone held an odd note to it that made him look up—was that __anxiety he heard there?  Concern?  Her expression hadn't changed, it was still a little puzzled, perhaps a bit annoyed….. it was rather odd to see something other than seductive friendliness on those delicate features._

"All right…. Uh, and thanks again.  I'll keep my eyes open."  He frowned up at her, not bothering to hide his curiosity.  "Why do you care?  I mean, not to be rude, but-- frankly, Akako, you're not gonna get anywhere with me.  If you haven't figured out that by now—"

"Oh, _I've figured it out; I'm no idiot.  And I certainly have better things to do than trouble myself over *you*, my dear Kaito-kun…"  Her voice lingered over his name, the tones oddly caressing, oddly chilling; he shivered again.  "But as to why I care--?  We all have our hobbies.  And perhaps….."  She turned away from him, walking towards the other side of the roof._

"….. perhaps I just like you best in _white….. Kaito-kun."_

Her rich chuckle drifted to him on the early breeze, and then the sound of her footsteps stopped; when he stood up to look, she had disappeared.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The last stragglers had left, and the house beneath him had grown silent at last.  The young man on the roof listened to the progress of the building's sole inhabitant (well, if you didn't count Spot the Kitten From Hell) making her way from room to room; the soft pad of her feet would have been quite inaudible to anyone else.  But a Phantom Thief has to learn all sorts of odd skills, and he knew every creak, squeak and click of Aoko's house-sounds; after all, he had had to practice *somewhere*.

Besides, they had met on her rooftop before—often, really, when they were kids.  There was this pine tree next to the house that made an _excellent ladder, if you were careful….._

At last, just as the first gray glow of false dawn began to make everything dim and shadowy, he heard the scrabble of feet on the balcony ledge behind him and fingers on the roof-edge.  Kaito didn't bother to turn around; after the first few fumbling ascents, their childhood selves had carefully nailed a length of knotted rope trailing down from the ridge.  Besides, Aoko'd have his hide if he acted even remotely like he didn't think she could make it up on her own…..

She said nothing as she came up behind him, carefully making her way across the narrow ridge; the teenager smiled a little to himself as her soft movements told him that she had changed from her dress.  _*That* sound was the rasp of denim against denim, and __*that* one the faint rasp of a sock snagging on a roof-shingle; hence, jeans again.  Good.  Not that he didn't appreciate the dress, but….._

….. jeans were more _Aoko to him._

She sat down carefully behind him, only a foot or so away and uncharacteristically quiet; the dim light gave little of her expression away as he shifted so that his legs trailed down the slant of the roof beside hers.  "Thanks….. for the trick and all…  The roses were really nice," she said, and the note of shyness in Aoko's voice made him nervous; Aoko, *shy*??

_*That's stupid—she's never shy.  But…. I guess things are a little different now… aren't they?*  In an effort to diffuse the sharp angles of his nerves he grinned at her through the gray dawn.  "Yeah, well, I'm glad you liked it…  Bet Saguru-chan didn't like __his trick half as well—"_

As expected, she broke into a scowl and her eyes flashed; a few of his spikier nerve-endings smoothed out at that.  "Kaitooooo……..  You should NOT have done that to poor Hakuba-kun—" and he reflected that if there had been a mop handy, that would've been *it* for him.  Speaking of which--  He fumbled in one pocket for his _second gift, one he had only found the previous day._

"Wanna see another trick?"

She eyed him suspiciously, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.  "Well……."

He beamed at her, all sparkling eyes and grin.  "Close your eyes and hold out your hand, palm up…….  Oh, c'mon, I _SWEAR I won't give you a—a live squid again, or anything like that.  No frogs, insects, worms or any other type of wildlife."_

The young woman smirked at him.  "Not even a—fish?"  

He shuddered.  "DEFINITELY not."

Aoko hesitated; then, with the slightly wary trust he was used to, she did as he requested.  A moment later she blinked at the small object that lay glittering in her hand—a tiny silver pin, no more than an inch or so long.  The craftsman had done their work well, although she couldn't imagine what had made them make a…..

….."It's a *mop*….." she said wonderingly, turning the tiny thing over in her fingers.  "WHERE did you find a—a mop pin?"

Kaito was watching her with his head tilted a little to one side, that curious little smile of his (the one he got when he was happy and couldn't bring himself to let it out) present..  "Oh, in some little shop…..  I don't really remember.  Ummm, do you like it?"

The girl couldn't help it; her face broke into a grin as wide as any of his.  "Mm-hm….."  She fastened it onto her sweatshirt with careful fingers, giggled a little.  "Now I'll never be without my mop, so you'd better just *watch* it, Kaito-kun.  One false move and you're DOOMED."  A bubble of happiness seemed to be swelling up inside of her, despite her threatening words.  She crossed her sock-clad ankles happily, leaning just a little back and staring up at the cloudy sky overhead.  "This has been the best birthday yet."

Silence then for a few minutes, the companionable silence between two people who understand that quiet can have its own lyrics and tempo-- two people who have the tune memorized and recognize the same beat.  It was so very calm, so _still—_

--they might have been the only people awake in the entire world.  It made him smile.  

The sky was getting a little brighter now, and the wind was beginning to rise with the sun.  Aoko's dark hair drifted back from her face, more than a little disheveled—her careful makeup from the night before was a bit smeared, and (to Kaito's rather remarkable nose) she could probably use a quick shower.  

And they _*still* had to go to school today….. oh joy; he knew he should head home.  One last thing, though……_

She was watching him sideways, that fiery, half-mischievous half-wary gleam  in her eyes again—she always made him think of fireworks when she looked like that.  Dangerous, definitely— beautiful, absolutely….. quick to dissipate and change shape, and you never knew if they were going to do what you *expected* them to do or blow up in your face and make you really, REALLY sorry.

That was half the challenge and a hell of a lot of the fun, if you asked Kuroba Kaito.

He smiled a little, watching the first red-golden rays creeping past the grayness of false dawn; the thin beams of light outlined things gently, smoothing the rooftops with fingers that were as yet still cool and chaste but which would warm and become more certain as time passed.  There was just enough light to see by……  He fished yet again in his capacious pockets.  "Um, Aoko?  Want to see how your pin looks on you?  Here—"   What he passed her was (to her evident amusement) a woman's compact mirror; what she didn't _*know* was how often he used that sort of thing to see around corners when he was Kid.  She opened it with a dubious look—then stopped short at what was inside._

Kaito held his breath.

The wreath of four-leaf-clovers shone molten in the early light as the sun's rays traced it like curious fingers; Aoko slowly hooked one finger beneath the chain, lifting it up so the pendant could spin gently before her eyes.  "Kai… Kaito?"

He could feel the blood burning in his cheeks.  _*C'mon, Kuroba, you're an international jewel-thief, adored by millions (well, hundreds maybe) and wanted in a number of countries (considering that they don't know you're not Dad).  You can handle this; you're intelligent, you're clever, you're--*_

_*………………she's looking at me……………………….*_

_*…….. you're a hopeless romantic and utterly brain-dead, and now you're in deep trouble because you just did an irrevocable thing.  You Changed the Rules.*_

She _*was* looking at him, and with an oddly indecipherable expression.  "Kaito?  Is this really for me?"_

Nod nod.  He felt like an idiot.  _*Oh jeeze, Aoko, please don't just toss it off the roof--*_

She was still just looking at him, as if making up her mind.  Those eyes of hers, they weren't full of the usual fire….. no, right now they were more like….. banked coals, glimmering in the depths of a fireplace.  Sparks and stars…..  

This was why he had risked Changing the Rules—going from the safe familiarity of Kaito-kun-and-Aoko-kun to simply Kaito and Aoko, just two more people in the world who might actually want to be with each other.  That wonderful fire inside her, the same fire that made her angry and happy and fierce—it burned a person if they got too close, sure enough; but sometimes burning was worth it.

Burning….. the sun was almost half-way up; _*Aoko…..?*_

She moved then, and his heart sank into his socks as she gently placed the necklace and compact in his nerveless hands and turned her back on him, shifting slightly so she faced away.  "Um…..  _Aoko?  Are you—mad at me?  I just sort of thought that…..  I mean, I thought……"  His heart fell flat in his chest when she didn't turn back.  "I'm screwed, aren't I?  I just messed things up royally.  I….. if I hurt your feelings or, or embarrassed you, I'm sorry… I… I'm…an idiot, I guess—I just wanted to give you… something different.  Something that was… sort of special... and I guess I'm… I, uh…….. well, ****__shit__."_

Still she faced away.  But now Aoko seemed to be making some sort of sound, a sharp indrawing of breath that was somehow a little broken, a little staggered, a little unsteady… _*Oh man, she's not… she's not CRYING, is she?  You screwed up goddamn big this time, you ass…..*  Then her breath caught again; she choked—and he realized she was __*laughing*._

_*Laughing?  At… at ME?  Or—uhhh……*  Kaito's synapse seemed to have fused; he simply hadn't a clue why the hell she should be laughing._

"You… you think you _hurt my feelings by giving me this?"  Aoko's words were as unsteady with laughter as her breathing had been a moment before.  "You think you—you *screwed up*??  __Kaito—"  Her voice broke for a moment, and he saw her raise one hand as if to wipe away tears.  "You __ARE an idiot, you know?  Stupid, stupid— __idiot."_

"Uhhhhhh….."  If the whole rooftop had erupted suddenly in cops screaming _Kaito Kid, Put Your Hands Up! he couldn't have moved.  All he could think was __*I didn't?  I didn't screw it up?  I DIDN'T screw it up?  I REALLY didn't screw it up?* as she glanced back over one shoulder._

Aoko's eyes were full of that fire again, but softer now despite the redness of her cheeks.  She was smiling—no, she was still laughing a little, and with both hands she reached behind her head to lift her thick mass of hair away from her neck.

"So… _stop being an idiot and put it on me, okay?"_

For a magician, his hands could be remarkably unsteady at times; Kaito almost couldn't get the clasp closed… but somehow he managed.  Beneath his hands her skin was very warm; against her skin his fingers were very gentle.

And then she simply leaned back against him, still facing away but comfortable and relaxed.  And he sat where he was on the very end of the ridgepole, watching the sun rise with Aoko, happier than he could ever remember being in his entire life.

****************************************************************************************************************************

**_YSABET'S NOTES:__  Well, if that wasn't a sappy pile of Waff I don't know what it was…..  Be assured, it won't remain all fuzzy sweetness.  Got the heist next time—I sort of hoped I could do it THIS chapter, but the party took on a life of its own.  And the Kitten From Hell—mustn't forget the Kitten…..  I did *NOT* plan the Kitten, it just sort of arrived; and when it did, I planned on making it love Kaito.  Does anybody *else* out there find their characters changing as they type, right under their fingertips without apparent input from the author's mind? …..sweatdrop…..  The scene with Akako popped up on its own, too…..  Oh, by the way, sorry about not having peacocks here; I intended to put them in, but the plot changed again (surprise, surprise)._**

_One more comment: I got a surprised word or two from my friends who beta-read this, wondering why I didn't have Aoko and Kaito kiss each other at the end of this.  Well—you know, I thought about it a litte, and they've been friends for a long, long time; it's hard to change the level of physical intimacy you've had for years, MUCH harder than changing a mental or verbal level.  I married my best friend, so I actually have a little experience in this one—we ran around together for nearly 4 years before we ever even dated.  Soooooo….. just keep watching._

_Next time?  The heist… and the consequences.  Truths and lies and maybe those damned peacocks at last.  Please review, okay?  @ _^_


	5. Trial and Error

**Windfall**

**By Ysabet**

_Chapter 5: Trial and Error_

Inspector Nakamori stared, outraged, at the carefully-written card that lay on his desk. It had been there when he had arrived for work, tucked neatly inside an interoffice-mail envelope (complete with the police department's official mail-stamp). And all he could think was, _*How the HELL did he manage to-- how-- AAAGH!!!*_

_Even Time bows before the Princess when she is present; _

_The Sun hides his face when confronted by her beauty _

_As she ascends to Heaven in a cloud of angels' wings._

Ohayo! Hope you like the riddle, Inspector—I'll be seeing you soon!

XXX

KAITOU KID

A faint _sploosh! marked the demise of his morning cup of coffee as his fingers contracted around the Styrofoam; the hot liquid rained down unnoticed through through Nakamori's fist and onto his pants-leg as he began, softly at first, to swear._

Well, it _*started out* softly—_

Outside his office, several aids and officers paused in the hall and exchanged worried, knowing glances; a new secretary was stopped by one of her co-workers and prevented from knocking on the Inspector's door before the first echoes of his rising tirade had bounced off the walls.

… and downstairs, a certain mail-clerk (who looked oddly familiar, but not quite recognizable to the other workers—but hey, they were really busy in the morning, and office personnel changed all the time, you know?) chuckled to himself at the sound of Nakamori's shouts as he slipped away to his favorite window-exit. Whistling the closing theme from _LUPIN III, the young man headed out— he didn't want to be late for school, after all….._

*************************************************************

It was Wednesday morning and the usual river of kids were streaming in through the Beika Elementary School gates like so many backpack-laden lemmings, most of them chattering at the top of their lungs. Genta and Mitsuhiko were deeply involved in a philosophical discussion:

"JACKIE CHAN!!"

"BRUCE LEE!!"

"JACKIE CHAN, you baka!! _*He's* a lot better than any old—"_

"NO he's not!! Bruce Lee could knock him into—"

"He could *not*!! JACKIE CHAN'S the best!!!"

"No way!! BRUCE LEE!!!"

… and so forth.

Rin, walking a little ways back behind the two philosophers with Conan, Ai and Ayumi, rolled her eyes; "Are they _ever going to stop arguing about that?" she wondered. "They've been going on and __on about it every morning this week….."_

Conan shook his head. "That's what we get for going through my video collection. I wonder if they have any idea how old those movies are, anyway?"

"You don't know what you're talking about! In _Shaolin Wooden Men he threw this—"_

"Stuuuupid!! In _Return of the Dragon, Bruce Lee went up against this bunch of—"_

"—baka! When Jackie was in _Snake In Eagle's Shadow he did this cat sort of stuff, and *he* was just—"_

"—and then he did these flying kicks, and the bad guys were—"

"—but they got squashed because he's so COOL, and then he—"

"—so he kicked all his enemies' butts BIG time in _The Chinese Connection with these nunchakus—"_

Ayumi shrugged, shimmying her backpack more comfortably into place between her shoulderblades. "Boys can be awfully dumb." Conan opened his mouth, looking indignant; then he sighed, realizing just how effectively he was outnumbered (since Genta and Mitsuhiko were currently acting as object lessons in Ayumi's theory on male intellectual levels).

_*Thanks, guys…..* The boy shoved his glasses back into place from where they had slid down his nose; he glanced up at the sky and frowned just a little. Clouds were beginning to slowly make their way across the heavens, clumping and gathering like bales of dirty wool. So much for Recess. He chuckled a little wryly to himself at the thought of playground-time meaning so much to somebody who should've been out hunting for his first car (if things had been normal, which of course they were not), but you took what you could get._

He squinted at the aforementioned clouds; they didn't look _too bad….. not bad enough to make him change his after-school plans, anyway. And rain would actually make things work out even better, so long as it didn't fall too heavily. _

Conan had _things to do after school today._

Memories of the tail-end of his discussion with Ayumi from a few days before ran through his mind, interspersed with calculations and decisions…..

_"Ayumi? I know you meet this 'Hei-san' on Friday afternoons—don't look at me like that, I'd be a pretty poor detective if I hadn't figured out you had a good reason for *meeting* us at the park every Friday and not just *walking* there with us-- Are you supposed to meet with him this Friday too?"_

_"I…. no, he said he was gonna be sort of busy; he said that if I wanted to practice, we could meet on Wednesday afternoon instead….. But I can't; 'cause 'Kaasan's going to pick me up from school to go to the dentist. I forgot all about that—!"_

_"Ayumi-kun… listen. Could I meet him *for* you? It's okay—he needs to know that I know about him, right? And no, I don't think he'll be mad at all—I promise I'll make sure he knows you told me his name by accident. Please?........ I won't go unless you say I can………"_

_………….._

_"Please?"_

_"……… okay. But you HAVE to make sure he knows I didn't—didn't tell on him on purpose."_

_"I promise. Um…. One more thing (*sigh*); can I-- borrow your umbrella, Ayumi-kun?"_

_"My WHAT??" His friend had stared at him for a few seconds—then dissolved into a fit of giggles._

The boy chuckled again; _that should work….. he could feel the small weight of the little girl's umbrella in his backpack—it was an old one from when she was much smaller, kept for sentimental reasons; Ayumi had been teased about it more than once, but defiantly still used it on rainy days. His small grin faded considerably as he thought about just why she had giggled when he asked to borrow it… he was going to look pretty damned stupid with a kiddy umbrella of *__that* type—_

The things he did for his friends… and he had had to trade her one more day on his skateboard for it, too; she was a pretty shrewd bargainer for an eight-year-old. Sulking a little, Conan/Shinichi sent an entirely mental one-finger-salute in Kaitou Kid's direction; _*This had better be worth the trouble, dammit. And if you ARE planning on making problems for me or Ran or Ayumi, I'm going to put a sleeping dart right between your—*_

"Conan-kun?"

_*-- eyes.* "Hm? What?" Ayumi was tugging on his elbow._

She looked a little worried; as they entered the main building, she leaned over a little to whisper. "Does—have you talked to Haibara-san yet? About me finding out, I mean--?"

He glanced back involuntarily at the blonde girl, who had dropped a little ways behind them; the calm, rather expressionless face of the former scientist was looking a little paler than usual today—not exactly a surprise, all things considered. "Yeah… I did. Last night." It had not, admittedly, been pretty; for once, Ai had lost her composure she had managed to keep after her first realization up at the Mouris' and _*shouted* at him angrily (although, thinking back, he had to admit that the anger had held a strong note of panic as well). The worst thing about the whole conversation was that he had no excuse, not really—he __HAD been clumsy, too many mistakes had been made, and someone who should never had been able to figure things out had done a damned fine job of doing just that._

Conan knew Ai liked Ayumi-kun; the somewhat chilly young woman/young girl had managed to thaw more than a bit around the edges here and there, mostly due to Ayumi's determined air of friendship. Sometimes she didn't seem to quite know how to handle the little girl's puppy-like playfulness (he hadn't missed the way 'Haibara-san' had been gradually becoming 'Ai-kun'), which led him to believe that she had quite possibly never had any friends as a child.

Well, _*that* had changed….._

Ayumi-kun was still looking troubled; as they changed their shoes for school-scuffs, she ducked her head and said quietly, "Is she—mad at me?" Beside her, Rin glanced up and met Conan's eyes with her own.

The boy shuffled into his own scuffs; from the corner of his eye he could see the blonde's rather stiff back heading down the hall towards their classroom. "Not mad, no— she's just a little insecure." He hesitated, keeping his voice down (although that was hardly necessary, considering that Genta and Mitsuhiko had moved into Round Two of the Great Debate at this point: quoting lines from their favorite movies). "You have to understand… she's been through a lot, Ayumi-kun. She lost her home, people she cared about, everything she knew—all because of… well, *you* know who." He gave her a warning look.

"But… you did _too," she pointed out, her small face creasing in confusion. "You had to go and live with Ran-neechan—" and she glanced at Rin, a quick flicker of widened eyes, "—and you couldn't go to school with your friends anymore, or even wear your own clothes—"_

At that he chuckled. "Well, that's not _quite true… remember that sort of stupid-looking jacket I wore a lot at first? The blue one? That was mine when I was a kid the first time around," he explained. "It fit me again—I got it from my old house—so that's what I wore. I guess it sort of made me feel a little more like __*myself,* you know?" He could hear Rin repressing a gurgle of laughter._

Ayumi blinked, then wrinkled her nose. "It was sort of dorky, actually… so's your bow-tie, but we all got used to that." she informed him straightforwardly. The other girl lost the battle against her laughter at this point.

"I know, I know," he sighed, picking up his backpack. Over Rin's giggling he did his somewhat red-faced best to change the subject. "Now, about Ai--?" They walked into the classroom; Ai was over to one side of the class, listening silently as the teacher spoke to her with a slightly harassed expression (Conan shuddered at the thought of having to deal with the former scientist as a student, much less a classmate). "She wants to talk to you, I think—"

The child hesitated; then, the look that Conan had become so familiar with over the past year settled in, raising her chin and squaring her jaw. "That's good, because I want to talk to *her* too. She's my friend… and I have a present for her anyway; I'll do it at Recess." Catching up the strap of her backpack in one hand, she smiled at them both a little tentatively, a little unsure. 

"Conan? Rin? Is it—_easier or __harder, being a kid again? I mean, was it easier the first time? I always thought that grownups were so much smarter than little kids….. and you __*are* really, really smart, but you still worry about stuff and get things wrong sometimes, sooooo— Is it easier? or harder?" She tilted her head inquisitively, dark eyes curious._

Conan looked at Rin—Rin looked at Conan; then they both looked at Ayumi and shrugged. Rin was the first to speak. "Easier… a *few* things are easier, like… well, schoolwork is, I guess….. and you don't have to pay for things much anymore; that's kind of nice. People _*do* treat you differently when you're a kid—you know, I never thought that much about it before, but when you're small they either pay a lot of attention to you or none at all—"_

The little girl looked puzzled; she hadn't noticed, actually. Her friend went on as they sat down in their desks, her eyes reflective: "It's easier in some ways because you don't worry about certain things that are important when you're older—what people think of you, for instance… the older you get, the more that matters. It's kind of funny, but you don't realize how _much it matters until you don't have to care about it any more…"_

The boy settling into the desk beside her paused as he slid his backpack off. "You always were a clotheshorse… you and Sonoko-kun; get you two anywhere near a store and the best thing a guy could do was run for his life—" 

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Complain, complain, complain; we only dragged you along a few times… and we hardly ever made you try on stuff. Later on, after you, um, started wearing a smaller size… I guess it happened a little more often then, maybe—"

Conan slid his pack into place on the back of his chair with a _whump and a mock-sulky look. "—'More often'…? Try *every time you went* and you'll get it right. It was twice as bad, too… at least *before* I never had to go with you when you bought underwear—"_

"Awp!"

Blushing, Rin attempted to thwack him on the top of the head with her knuckles; laughing, he dodged, then leaned back with his hands linked behind his head. "You're _still a clotheshorse, you know… I saw all that stuff you and Sonoko brought home last weekend; I think she's enjoying dressing you up, just like a living doll….."_

Rin's blush deepened a little; she flicked back a strand of hair from her face and her smile forced a reluctant giggle out from hiding. That shopping trip _*had* been a bit excessive, and she had rather enjoyed trying everything on and then displaying each outfit in an impromptu living room fashion-show later, much to Sonoko's delight. "Well, we __both saw you watching me from the hallway when I was showing off my new clothes to Okaasan; you didn't seem too put-upon then….."_

Now _HE blushed, muttering something indistinct; a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth._

_"Hey!" _

They each jumped a little; Ayumi was frowning severely at them both from her seat, hands on her hips. "If you two're going to do boyfriend-girlfriend talk like a pair of _grownups I'm going to go to take a nap, 'cause it's __booooring— mushy stuff, eeeew….." She leaned her head on one elbow, closed her eyes and made mock-snoring noises. Her classmates eyed her with surprise, then shrugged a small shrug at each other. _

Ayumi cracked open one eye, giggling a little at their expressions. "You told me about the 'easier' stuff; is being a kid again harder too?"

This time Conan answered, running one hand through his hair as his blush faded. _"Harder… I don't even know where to start. You can't use your own name—you have to get used to a new one. You can't wear your old clothes, have to get used to being half as tall as you were and a *lot* lighter and weaker… You have to learn all sorts of new rules, too, the ones you missed recognizing the first time around—that grownups really *don't* pay much attention, that you're more likely to be disbelieved than believed __just for being a kid, that anybody below elbow-level is suddenly a second-class citizen—" (Ayumi opened her mouth to ask what that was, then decided to ask later). "But… the worst bit….." he hesitated, and both of the listeners eyed him with varying degrees of concern as Conan's eyes darkened with Kudo Shinichi's remembered unhappiness and terror._

_*-- the worst-- Waking up and realizing what had happened to me, being lost that way and not knowing if there would EVER be a way home-- Waiting for Them to come and find me, waiting to die all over again, this time with *company* and for good—*_

"Conan…" Rin's eyes were very gentle as she touched his sleeve with one small hand; for the barest second another face seemed to take the place of her child's countenance: older, the image of a young woman who was now nothing more than the ghost of shared memories. Her expression was concerned as well, and the look in both pairs of eyes helped immeasurably as he pushed away the old pain of loss. 

The boy sighed, shaking his head. "Never mind, Ayumi; sometime later, maybe." That sort of thing wasn't for a child to hear—not the loneliness, not the absolute _fear he had had to deal with for so many months upon waking each morning: that somehow he had slipped up, that the Black Organization had *found* him and would kill everyone connected to both one Kudo Shinichi __and Edogawa Conan….. _

No, none of that was for Ayumi's ears; he had nightmares enough for them both. _*Besides,* he added quietly in his mind, __*It's better now. No, the Black Org hasn't gone away; yes, I'm still a kid; no, they haven't paid yet for all the evil they've done. Yet. But I'm not alone anymore, selfish as I am to be happy about that. It's not so bad now.* He forced a grin, waving away Ayumi's worried look; the kid had enough to think about right now anyway. "The absolute __worst? Well….." There was a pregnant pause as both girls waited; he shrugged once, rather nonchalantly. "There __are the school lunches… and having to deal with the Video Twins back there, too, that can be a pain—" He stuck a thumb in the direction of Genta and Mitsuhiko, who were only now noisily plopping down into their desks. _

The two boys (having caught the last sentence) looked indignant, breaking off the Great Kung-Fu Debate to plop down on either side of Conan. Each one opened his mouth in rebuttal…..

"Huh? Just because we—"

"Hey! We're—"

… but a "Hmph!" from Ayumi-kun stopped them both in their tracks. "I don't know why you're arguing so much, anyway—Jet Li's _MUCH cooler than Jackie Chan *or* Bruce Lee." She tossed her head a little and grinned at a startled Conan and Rin, then turned towards their somewhat-harried-looking teacher; case closed._

Mitsuhiko and Genta each hesitated—then, as one, shrugged in either agreement or surrender and fell silent as their day officially began.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sitting a little to one side, Ai spared the rest of her small collection of friends a silent glance as the teacher began to speak; her usually cool gaze rested for a long moment on Ayumi's profile as the child bent over her paper, analyzing and calculating. But… if anyone had been observing closely, they just *might* have thought they had seen the faintest shadow of _fear in that quiet, measuring look—_

-- Of course they would have been wrong, though; and Ai would have been the first to tell them so, too. In detail.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

When it rained during Recess, the children tended to do one of two things: they either loitered beneath the school walkways and overhangs bordering the playground or they took their chances in the weather out of sheer unspent energy and a grim determination not to waste precious non-class time in _*anything* other than play._

Ai tended to read.

She sat in a small alcove to one side of the main walkway, a one-person space shaped by the angles between two cement supports and the building's wall. Light rain drummed softly on the roof overhead, its clean scent mixing with the usual smells of playground, wet sidewalks and dead leaves from the trees nearby; normally it would have been soothing.

Normally….. The small ex-scientist frowned in exasperation, attempting to ignore both the shrill chatter of voices and the proximity of the raindrops (not to mention the nagging, incessant unease that crept around the edges of her thoughts, using phrases like _Ayumi-Know* or __I-Have-To-Do-Something and__ I-Should-Leave) that kept prodding her attention away from her book._

No good; she couldn't keep her mind on the pages in front of her. Closing the copy of _'The Origins of Order' that she had managed to hide between the gutted covers of __'Ryo's Big Jungle Adventure', Haibara Ai leaned back with an annoyed sigh to watch her classmates play in the early Autumn rain._

They moved so chaotically… random dashes through the thin patter of drops, skids and splashes of activity, without apparent motive or pattern; but she had learned differently over the past year, was learning more so every day. Ai ran one finger across the cheerful false cover of her book (_*False, just like me,* her thoughts whispered clearly) and quoted something beneath her breath from the contents within: __"'Whenever a collection of chemicals contains enough different kinds of molecules, a metabolism will crystallize.'" The small figures out there in the rain—they were the chemicals and her class was the metabolism, she supposed. Or maybe that was too narrow a definition; Life, __that was the metabolism of course… this younger generational subset that she had so unwillingly joined._

Idly she wondered if she would live long enough to see it mature.

A slight shuffling noise on the other side of the right-hand cement support made her grimace in irritation; wonderful. Mitsuhiko-kun, probably, or (if she were lucky) Kudo. Or Rin—she was finding life somewhat easier to bear since the inclusion of the third adult in their own admittedly peculiar 'subset'; it helped a little, having one more person around who could think at a level beyond _'Ryo's Big Jungle Adventure'._

"Haibara-san?"

_*NOT Rin or Kudo, then; Ayumi.* She noted that the more familiar 'Ai-kun' had shifted back to 'Haibara-san' with faint, somewhat sour amusement; doubtless the child would keep her distance now. The tentative friendship between them was over, then; but that was as it should be, of course… she had more important things to think about than friendship with a preadolescent gradeschooler, no matter how much it had eased things occasionally over the past months. _

No matter how much the child reminded the former Miyano Shiho of her sister at times….. Nonsense, all of it; pure useless sentiment.

Wasn't it?

"I've got a present for you."

_*What…?* _

_THAT wasn't what she had expected— reserve, yes, uncertainty and even a little fear, yes… but a present? What in the world--? She sat forward a little, craning her head around the cement support as curiously as any… well, as anyone with a good, solid streak of scientific interest; she had __*not* nearly thought "as any child". Of course not._

Ayumi-kun leaning back against the buttress, one arm hugging her notebook to her chest and the other clutching a slightly wrinkled piece of paper; mutely she held it out to the blonde girl, who took it and stared in confusion.

The picture was… of herself, apparently; done in markers or some such, it held a crude rendition of a lab-coated, adult Haibara Ai with a flask in hand. _*Not too bad a drawing, really, for someone who has never seen me like this; am I supposed to put it up on my refrigerator or something?* The other figure was clearly Ayumi; but why was she…?_

"It's a… I think you call it a *contract*" said the little girl quietly. "See—that's you, the way you used to be—" One small and slightly grubby finger tapped the white-coated flask-toting shape as the child twisted around a little. "The other one's me, and I've got my mouth covered up to show I _*WON'T TELL ANYBODY.*" The emphasis on the last three words came out iron-clad and determined, accompanied by a scowl that would have done credit to the most cantankerous University professor._

_*A… contract. A contract? But—what is the word of a child worth?* The gradeschooler who had once been Miyano Shiho felt memories, painful ones, welling up from the cold black depths of her past:_

_(Two girls, sisters, clinging to each other in the aftermath of their parents' deaths. They knew someone had been arranged to take care of them, but right then that didn't matter. And they had sworn (hadn't they?) to do just that—to take care of each other no matter what; it was all either of them had left.)_

Still staring at the drawing, Ai felt her fingers tighten on the paper. Such small, weak fingers—she could do so little with them, felt so futile at times, so damned helpless—needed so much more than she was willing to allow herself to accept— Even the comfort of a little girl's friendship; even that should have been beyond what she should allow herself to take. She hadn't been able to keep her promise to her sister, had she?

"Ai-kun?" _*So we're back to 'Ai-kun' now…* she thought curiously; her eyes seemed to be burning a little, and she rubbed at them in irritation. __*Why? And why should she be offering this to **me?* Ai had to know.**_

"Ayumi-kun? A… contract? Why?"

The little girl fidgeted just a bit, both hands clutching her notebook even tighter now. "Because….. you need it to feel better. You like stuff down on paper lots better than just things people say—I guess that's why you read all the time instead of talking." (Ai blinked at this rather interesting insight.) "So I made a contract—I was listening to my 'Kaasan on the phone, and she was talking about contracts at work and so I _asked her and she told me about them."_

See?" Ayumi pointed at the paper again, her eyes growing a little impatient at the other's apparent obtuseness. "This is _you, all grown up—and this is __me, NOT TALKING TO ANYBODY about you being all grown up. And now….." She pulled herself up to her knees, fishing around inside her notebook for something; a green marker came out, and with great care the child wrote her name at the bottom of the page._

"Now _*you* sign it. That'll make it a real contract." She held out the marker._

_*But… but…*_

Moments later Haibara Ai stared down at her own neat calligraphy, a scientist's careful notation without even the faintest tinge of the gradeschooler about it. She was rather bemused to see that she had actually written 'HAIBARA AI / MIYANO SHIHO', just as if the first name wasn't as false as her appearance.

Just as if she were _both persons, not just the latter masquerading beneath the mask of the former._

_*…..but…. I…..*_

Ayumi nodded, a look of relief on that absurdly young face (had _*she* ever looked that young, the first time around?). The little girl folded the paper and tucked it carefully inside Ai's own book like a bookmark. "Good. You keep that—now you KNOW I won't tell anybody, 'cause you've got a contract. It's sort of like a pinky-swear, only better, right, because our names are on it? Right!" She nodded firmly, pleased. "And now you don't have to worry anymore, and we can stay friends."_

The child looked _so much like Shiho's sister just then._

"C'mon!"

….. and still more than two-thirds stunned, she found herself being tugged to her feet and out into the light rain. "Ai-kun's _'IT'!!!" bellowed Genta from where he sprawled half on top of Mitsuhiko, half in the mud; shrieking, the rest of her classmates took off in all directions like charged electrons. She stood there, water dripping from her bangs, not quite sure of what to do or why she suddenly felt so shaky inside; and a few feet away Ayumi turned back to look at her with an unexpectedly sympathetic grin._

"It's okay, Ai-kun; you can play now."

Behind her she could hear Conan and Rin's surprised murmur; no doubt they were wondering why she was standing out there like a fool, getting wet. Well, she was wondering too; but somehow (just this once) she didn't care. Besides, acting like one more molecule among many was good camouflage, correct?

Of _course it was; her heart seemed to lighten oddly and Haibara Ai set off after the nearest of her classmates at a dead run (and a very accurate trajectory, to boot). Later, Conan would swear he had heard her __laughing._

*************************************************************

Wednesday afternoon; school was out, the rain was still falling softly, and the river of children was streaming homeward. It was an odd river, composed mostly of bubbles—tall bubbles, short bubbles, printed bubbles, plain bubbles, plastic or oiled silk or nylon, ribbed and seamed and bobbing like floats in a current. A watcher from above would have eventually identified the bubbles as umbrellas.

One bubble—that is, one _umbrella pulled aside from a cluster of similarly small ones, heading northwards down a sidestreet; a second umbrella (dark blue, with a flower motif) accompanied it for a few minutes, then hurried back to the straggling clump that was still making its way downstream. Rain drizzled quietly from above, and all the afternoon air was gray and soft._

The umbrella was a small one, carried by a small, slight figure; tennishoes splashed through the rain and dead leaves at the margin of the park, sending thin arcs of spray to scatter across the ground from the soaked laces as they swung. The footsteps were solid, sturdy and light on the sodden grass; they seemed to know exactly where they were going.

And up a certain tree, halfway across the park…..

_*….. sixteen… seventeen… eighteen, whups, almost lost 'em… nineteen… twenty… twenty-one……*_

Hei-san was playing with cards again. This wasn't exactly unusual; he shuffled, dealt, flipped, fanned, and generally handled decks of cards during at least a quarter of his waking hours without really thinking about it—cards were part of a magician's stock-in-trade, as much a tool as a prime indicator of the dealer's state of mind. When he was annoyed, he shuffled them back and forth from hand to hand at a rapid speed; when he was happy, he tended to make full poker-hands (good ones, too) pop up in odd places among his friends' belongings.

Right now Hei-san was _*plotting*; and so he was building a house of cards, delicately balanced on the palm of one hand. Up a tree, too, ten feet or so into the air. In the rain._

Sometimes he just amazed himself, really. 

_*Gotta hand it to you, Thief Boy, when you get in heist-mode you're pretty good. Detailed, precise, covering all the bases… pretty damned smug about it too, better watch that…….… twenty-four…………. twenty-five……. twenty-six, twenty-seven, watch it……… twenty-eight….. damn, I'm good……. twenty-nine (wonder where 'Yumi-chan is?)….. thirty…..*_

He places the next card down delicately, adjusting his angle to block the wind; a slight movement of color caught his attention from the corner of his eye—there was an umbrella crossing the park. Hei-san grinned to himself, recognizing the pattern—

_*Bingo. Wonder what Aoko would say if I told her I was meeting Another Woman? One who tends to use a bright red HelloKitty umbrella when it rains….. I kinda suspect she'd question my taste and then let me have it but good with the business end of her mop.*_

The umbrella was approaching; he had left his at home today, preferring to fend off the light rain with his nylon jacket-hood. As the short little legs beneath the red dome arrived beneath his tree, he called out cheerfully, "Yo, 'Yumi-chan! Didn't think you'd make it there for a bit—" Carefully he balanced the last card on top of his creation _(*… and thirty-two!*), leaning against the water-slick treetrunk. "Got something to show you here—whatcha think? Look up!" Proudly he held it out in front of him, peering over the top with a large grin._

The umbrella tilted back just a bit… and then _hesitated, wavering._

"I'd be glad to, but—do you _*really* want me to 'look up' right now?" said a rather dry young voice._

***…………_ohSHIT ! ! ! ! !*_**

--- aaaaaaand he was **_UP the tree another three or four meters without the faintest sensation or memory of climbing; cards were still falling in all directions like a red-and-white snowstorm, and somehow that red 'HelloKitty' umbrella had just managed to become the most threatening thing in his immediate existence. _****_*@#$#$%!!!* _**

The red umbrella seemed to be snickering.

Hei-san couldn't seem to catch his breath— he found himself firmly ensconced in a thick spray of autumn-red leaves, dripping and chilly but most of all _*giving good coverage*. Camoflage was suddenly a WONDERFUL concept, and he tugged his hood down as far as it would go as his trademark Poker Face slammed down like a shield. _

"**_DAMN you, Kudo, what the hell're you trying to do? Give me a __heart attack??" The angry words were out of his mouth before he could think._**

The red umbrella was _STILL snickering; it visibly shook. "Sorry about that… couldn't resist." The calm, amused voice didn't sound sorry at __all._

Shakily Hei-san nodded to himself, still trying to gather the tattered remnants of his composure; he supposed he would have done the same (numerous instances with Nakamori sprang to mind, for instance; _*I always knew those would come back to haunt me…..*) With his heartbeat thudding like a metronome he peered downwards through the leaves, wondering if he was high enough for his features to be indistinguishable; probably, what with the rain and his hood and all….. _

"So—have you become a closet HelloKitty fan, or did you just mug Ayumi for her umbrella?" he snapped out, still angry, his pulse sounding in his ears. "I can't believe she'd just say 'Hey, Conan-kun, want to pretend to be me and go meet with my juggling instructor?'" He mimicked the little-girl tones flawlessly, and the red umbrella shifted as if the small fists holding the shaft had tightened. 

_*Goddammit, I knew this was only a matter of time, but shit!! **I wanted to set the meeting up between us, ****I wanted to be the one in control-- Kudo's just too @#$#!! unpredictable!! Too quick on the uptake, too hard to outsmart….. and now he's got me up a tree. Just flipping GREAT.***_

"For your information, she didn't just _say anything—not willingly, anyway. The name 'Hei-san' slipped out accidentally, and…"_

"…and you figured things out from there." He tried not to sound like he was sulking. _*Way to GO, Kaito. You should have used a different name, you blithering, brainless moron—then he wouldn't have made the connection. But nooo, you just *had* to go and use 'Hei-san' all over again, just because you sort of missed being the character (he WAS fun, except for having to clean all the time) and because you thought 'Yumi-chan might feel better about a familiar-sounding name---* _

"Well? Here I am, no hang-glider, no bag of tricks—aren't you planning on shooting me with one of those little anesthetic needles of yours?" Heart still beating hard, he shifted slightly and eyed the branches of the next tree over. He was pretty sure he could make it if he was careful—and there was a nice tall pine beyond that, and then—

A snort from below; then one hand reached out from the umbrella, dangling something silver from a finger. "Not today… truce." The face of the dartgun-watch glinted in the pewter-grey light, droplets beading on the glass.

-- he should be able to outrun those stumpy little legs without much trouble, assuming the Shrimp hadn't managed to station cops all around the park's perimeter-- _*What? WHAT did he just say? Did I just hear Kudo use the word 'truce'?? Riiiight… next thing I know, Nakamori-san's gonna wish me Good Luck on my next heist. Kudo does NOT make truces with wanted felons.* The thief was silent, staring down; the HelloKitty face on the umbrella seemed to grin mockingly up at him._

_*…goddamned thing looks JUST like Spot, the Cat From Hell; never noticed that before…* He shuddered, vowing silently to avoid all HelloKitty products in the future (even the Choco Pie Cookies). "Did—you just say __'truce'? Why??"_

Silence from below. Then, reluctantly: "Because… I owe you one. I'm not happy about it, but—I pay my debts." The red umbrella tilted back a little, making the HelloKitty face seem to leer lopsidedly. "You're not in any danger from me today—no darts, no cops, no surveillance, nothing. I just want to _talk." The hand tossed the watch down onto the grass, where it lay shining dully among the cards and dead leaves._

The magician shifted uncomfortably, feeling his Poker Face grow even more enigmatic; for some reason, _*talk* was NOT a comforting word. Still….. no darts, no cops, no surveillance? Just—__talking? That didn't sound too bad; of course, he'd feel a lot better if he hadn't been trapped up a tree with a sort of simulacrum Cat From Hell standing down below….. _

"Talk, hm? And just what would you like to talk about today, Conan-kun?" He carefully adjusted the placement of his feet a little, settling into the crook of two branches in a way that would allow for quick movements if necessary. "You're not still mad about my showing up in your hospital room, are you? Glad to see you're feeling better, by the way….. oh, and if you want to look up, go _right ahead." Unless the Twerp had a telescope or a pair of binoculars on him, he shouldn't have a problem….. he hoped….. _

But he found himself holding his breath as he watched the boy tilt the umbrella slowly back and turn those sharp, sharp eyes his way.

The expression on that innocent little-boy countenance was as bland and unrevealing as his own Poker Face, giving away nothing; the eyes, though—something was _bugging Kudo, and doing a good job of it too. Hmmmmm….. He never __could manage to leave well enough alone; so he decided to prod a little. "You're being awfully quiet for somebody who came here to talk— and why should I hang around to listen, anyway? Correct me if I'm wrong, but __aren't you usually trying to catch me?"_

With an annoyed grunt, the faux gradeschooler shrugged his narrow shoulders. "You seem to have plenty to say; and you know the old saw about giving somebody enough rope….." At the irritated rustle of leaves from high above, a small smirk seemed to struggle onto the childish face, banishing the grimness that had accompanied the admission of 'owing Hei-san one.' The boy pulled his jacket a little tighter around his shoulders, seeming to relax a little. "As for catching you…. Much as that'd make my day, this is more important. Don't get me wrong—I _*still* have you on my own personal 'Most Wanted' list, but….. not today."_

Hei-san felt the slightest edge of his own hair-trigger nerves slacking off, just a bit; if there was one thing he was pretty sure of, it was Kudo's almost painful tendency towards honesty. All that 'Only One Truth', etc., etc….. _*Rrrgh. That's one of the hard things about being one of the Good Guys twenty-four-seven: you have to keep your nose so utterly squeaky-clean. I think it'd cramp my style eventually… not that being a thief who returns his thefts is exactly a bed of roses, but…..)_

Well—Miracle of miracles, Kudo seemed to be actually willing to chat for a bit. _*So let's make the most of it!* A small smirk began to make its way onto his face, and with the mercurialness so typical of the famed Kaitou Kid the young thief suddenly decided to get… __*playful*._

"Fine! Let's talk, then!" His voice took on an alarmingly cheery note, causing the boy below him to blink. "So—nice weather we're having, isn't it? Seen any good soccer games lately? How's the schoolwork—read any good kiddy books since I quit the Janitorial field? Speaking of which, who took my place? Better tell 'em there's a leak in the bathroom over by the main office—I tried to fix the bugger, but the toilets just kept—"

"What are your intentions towards Ayumi?"

_*Whoooo…. Sounding a bit CRANKY there, aren't we, Kudo? Matter of fact, you sound like a suspicious father.* He muffled a snicker and attemped a serious answer…_

… to no avail. He just couldn't pass this up….. 

"Well, y'know, I *HAD* intended to just teach her a few tricks, but since she's coming along so nicely I figured she'd make a great little Phantom Thief one of these days; all magicians are supposed to have Lovely Assistants, aren't they? We'll start small, just the occasional easy break-in and robbery—she can follow right behind me, I can make her a cute little mini-glider, maybe with a HelloKitty motif—and then when she gets a bit older we'll move up to **_AAAWWWWK!!!"___**

**_**bwaWHACKKK!!!***_**

The pinecone hit the treetrunk beside him at a rapid velocity, splintering into a hundred soggy, sharp wooden pieces; they rained all over the place and covered the bug-eyed thief with a scatter of turpentine-scented shrapnel. "OKAY, OKAY!!! Jeeze, can't you take a _joke?" He irately brushed scraps of wood from his face, wondering if he would ever be able to pry his other hand from its grip on the bark. "Just kidding….. Man, *some* people need to *lighten up* a little….. and I thought you said 'truce'!!"_

The figure below him shrugged again. "I said I wouldn't shoot you with my watch-darts—I didn't say anything about my shoes, did I? So: one more time. What are your intentions towards Ayumi?"

The thief sighed, pulling his hood a little further down. "Chill out, Kudo. I don't mean her any harm at all—hell, I saved her life already once, or have you conveniently forgotten that little fact? She's in no danger from me whatsoever." He laughed a little, picking another splinter of pinecone from his collar. "I didn't even MEAN to keep in contact with her; I just kept an eye out for a bit, sort of making sure she wasn't too traumatized by that bastard Ojiwa….. She's a good kid; I liked her—she's pretty damned brave, and I guess I sort of decided to watch her for a bit. Only, she talked to me one day here in the park, and one thing led to another….. and the next thing I knew I was giving her lessons every week." He sulked a little, stuffing his hands into his pockets and leaning against the wet branches with a scowl.

"She's a pretty persuasive kid, y'know that? I guess you probably do. Smart, too….. and no, I am *NOT* teaching her to steal! Give me a break, Kudo—what the hell do you think I _am? Some kind of—"_

"I don't know _*what* you are," said the boy flatly, staring up at him with a hard, dark blue stare. "You're no older than I am—my real age, I mean--- You steal things and return them, make a big flash and fuss about it, help the occasional person out without apparent rhyme or reason, and now you're teaching __one of my friends magic tricks….." _

Then he dropped his glare towards the grass (which Hei-san half expected to start withering). "And you know about me… and you've never breathed a word, have you? You could have, but you haven't. _Why not?"_

The low voice had absolutely nothing childish about it at that moment, despite its timbre—just a sort of weary curiosity; he really wanted to know. _"Why haven't you leaked it to the tabloids or something, just to keep me busy? They'd love it—'Gradeschooler Actually Missing Detective Teen!'—wouldn't that just look great on Page One of some cheesy newspaper somewhere?" He gritted his teeth. "Mouri would *totally* lose it over something like that….."_

Despite the almost joking words, there was very little humor to be heard— but there _was a strange something, a something that the young thief began to realize might actually be… __fear._

_*Ah; NOW I see why he wanted this confrontation—it must've been driving him crazy, knowing that *I* know and wondering why I haven't done anything about it. I'm supposed to be the bad guy, after all; it's not surprising, really, that he'd be on the defensive.* Self-flattery aside and all that, he knew it wasn't Kaitou Kid that the boy below him was afraid of—it was exposure, of himself and Mouri Ran and whoever else was mixed up in his bizarre little enigma. Hei-san had never been able to find out exactly what had happened to put Kudo in such a weird situation (or to allow his girlfriend to *follow* him, which was even stranger), but there was no way in Hell the teenager had gotten this way voluntarily. No doubt about __that one….._

Staring down from his perch, he could still remember the shock of finding out…..

***

_A little bird had told him, really._

_It was right after the whole 'Magician's Club' mess—he had been a little shaken by that one, having been not only involved in a murder mystery firsthand but also close enough to see the boy go about his business. 'Gradeschooler'….. yeah, right. Something was seriously WARPED about that kid—his body language was all wrong, even when he was trying his hardest; just a little too stiff, just a little too contrived. Oh, he was good enough to fool just about everyone else, but not good enough to fool somebody whose very life and freedom depended on being able to mimic the voices and identities of others._

_Kaito couldn't figure it out; this WAS a kid, not a midget or a dwarf—his proportions, weight and development were a kid's. It was just his intellect and attitude that weren't….. natural._

_He'd been in disguise himself, which had made the study even more interesting and amusing. A disguised thief studying a person who seemed to be wearing the ultimate mask-- He didn't know what or who that mask concealed as yet but he knew it was there, knew *something* was there….. even though his common sense kept trying to knock him on the head and go 'Hello! Little kid, right?'_

_So: after all the fuss was over and the players were back at their home bases, he had sent his own private little 'secret agent' out to keep tabs on the boy. He'd trained one of his doves only a few months earlier to carry a tiny radio on one leg, something he could use (and *did* use later on) to eavesdrop on Nakamori at critical moments. It had been fun, the testing period—he had set the bird to following various people (the 'lure' for the bird to follow had been a centimeter-wide sticker of red paper, which had been child's play to attach to one of his targets' shoulders. Even Conan's—it had helped that the kid was so short—a brush against a stranger on a crowded sidewalk had produced excellent results)._

_It was amazing just what you learned about people when they thought no-one was listening in. Nakamori's fascination with horse race radio broadcasts, Hakuba's irritating habit of talking to himself, Aoko's tendency to sing to herself as she walked….._

_Most of the eavesdropping sessions had been about 80% boring (there was nothing interesting about hearing a person walking on the sidewalk, for instance, and when his 'secret agent' perched among a cluster of pigeons the multiple cooing just about drove him nuts) and 20% informative. He could only hear what was going on from locations where his dove could get near, like window-ledges or outside; anywhere else, well… a bird would look sort of conspicuous perching on the Police Inspector's desk, he supposed._

_He had been lying on the Mouri's own rooftop (and wouldn't THAT blow a few gaskets if they knew!), watching as little Conan-kun came home from playing with his friends on a Sunday afternoon; his 'keeper', Ran, was inside, and the thief with the radio receiver had heaved an irritated sigh, expecting his quarry to head upstairs as well. Maybe he had overreacted—maybe the boy was just that, a boy and not some kind of mutant genius._

_And then the kid had gotten this sort of hesitant, almost guilty look on his face; he had turned to look at a payphone across the street….._

_Two or three minutes later, Kaito's eyes were half popping out of his head as through his mini-binocs he watched the seven-year-old in the phone booth speak into the receiver via some sort of gadget that looked like a bowtie; the voice that his dove's microphone picked up from its perch on the phonebooth's roof was NOT that of a child._

_"Ran? Hey, Ran-kun? It's me, Shinichi….. Yeah, yeah, I know it's been a few weeks since I called…. I know—I wish I could. Yeah. Still caught up in this idiot case— just thought I'd— No, I wish I *could* drop by, but I'm not in town, I'm calling from, uh, Hokkaido--"_

_His jaw had dropped; so had his stomach, straight into his shoes. WHAT the hell?! He… KNEW that voice, from the thing with the Clock Tower. He knew it—it'd been featured in the occasional everything's-gone-wrong bad dream since then….._

_The kid's expressions had flickered and changed while Kaito watched; it was a weird, weird thing to see—almost like looking at a moving double exposure, the face of someone very different superimposed over those young-boy features. He hadn't talked for long—the conversation had been full of awkward pauses and falterings, places where the gaps of silence said a lot more than they left out. And what they seemed to say was loneliness, accompanied by equal portions of regret and desperation. When the boy at last stretched upwards to replace the receiver, the depression in his eyes belied his innocent face._

_That face….. God, no WONDER he'd been confused about the kid's abilities. Kudo Shinichi's voice-- Kudo Shinichi's words, his detective abilities and genius….. all rolled up and hidden inside the mask of Edogawa Conan._

_Kaito should have been incredulous, disbelieving; he was not. He knew the truth when it jumped up and thwacked him crosseyed, which THIS had damned well just done. Numbly he watched the little boy cross the street, watched that look of tired sorrow deepen and grow black for just a second as the kid paused at the entrance; then, the small shoulders had squared, the chin had come up, and a rather bright young first-grader named Conan had gone bouncing up the stairs to his somewhat dysfunctional little 'family'._

_Way Bizarre._

_He had done a lot more snooping around after that; what he had found had been… odd. Apparently Edogawa Conan had just appeared one night—he hadn't flown in on any flights, and there was no record of him at any Japanese hospital, insurance agency or school (three of the best places to begin a record trace, he had found). The kid just sprang up out of nowhere, POOF!! It was almost as odd as the records which ALSO sprang up out of nowhere a month or so later that *did* give him a background. Kaito could recognize a good forger's work when he saw one, and somebody had spent some major yen on covering the kid's back. Who?_

_So many questions….. not enough answers, never enough answers. But one thing was certain: Like it or not, *believe* it or not, a fact was a fact. Conan was Shinichi and Shinichi was Conan. Never mind how he had gotten that way—hopefully SOMEday Kaito'd find that one out-- No, the big question was this:_

_What the HELL was he doing living at his girlfriend's house?_

***

"So… Why?" The boy's voice was almost tired, as if he had repeatedly asked himself the same question over and over again; all things considered, he probably had.

"Why…?" Hei-san stared down through the mist of falling rain. _*What do I tell him, anyway? I'm the villain; villains aren't allowed to just say 'Well, I didn't tell anyone about you because I'd feel like a total louse if I did, and it wouldn't be fair.' Nope; villains are supposed to be unprincipled and all that crap. Villains are supposed to be merciless and self-centered (and TOTALLY stereotyped)— that's the secret of being a successful villain: you don't give a damn about anybody else's secrets…..*_

_*Secrets; that's the key, isn't it? That's the lock that needs picking here.*_

He swallowed hard, still staring downwards. He could do this the _*easy way* or the __*hard way.* The easy way would consist of tossing some sarcastic villain-ish comment at the kid—at Kudo—without giving a damn about the guy's obvious feelings._

The hard way….. would be hard.

_*Aw, hell. Who am I trying to kid? Like I EVER took the easy way around anything?? Have to admit, though—I never in my wildest dreams ever thought I'd be, well, doing THIS.* Hei-san almost smiled to himself at the idea, then cleared his throat gently. "Kudo?" A faint lift of the head was all the indication he got that he had been heard; the thief chose to take it as an affirmative. "Let me ask you a question before I answer that, okay?" The boy was still, waiting._

"Have you ever heard the old saying about the end justifying the means?"

Nothing for a moment; then a dark blue stare was directed up at him. "It's a fallacy. Murderers use that excuse all the time." The young voice was very cold, cold enough to freeze the air between them.

Hei-san laughed beneath his breath. "Oddly enough, I **agree with you." The thief listened to the surprised silence below for a second or two before continuing.**

"If I believed—really believed—that the end justifies the means, then maybe I *would* have told somebody about you, just to get you out of the way." He sighed, feeling his own burden of secrets forming a lump in his throat. "If… all I cared about was my safety, my own ends….. then I would've done it. But if there's one thing I understand, it's secrets; and the end DOESN'T always justify the means."

He swallowed again, hearing the gulp against the soft patter of the rain all around him. It was getting a little easier to talk now—

"Years ago, somebody I cared for very much was murdered by people who believed that lie; it didn't matter to them what they did, who they killed, the lives they shattered….. None of it mattered one fat damn to them, all they wanted was to get what they were after-- Well, they didn't get it then….."

"….. and they _won't get it now, not if I have my way." The last half of the sentence was whispered in a voice as cold as Conan's had been a few seconds before._

The words seemed almost to echo amidst the soft drip of rain.

Below, the small figure was quiet for a few seconds; overhead, Hei-san took a moment to bring his feelings back under control. That second of outburst had startled him rather badly—he usually managed to clamp down on that sort of thing. _*Sometimes I get caught up in the game of being Kid—it's fun, as terrifying and dangerous as it can be at times-- But behind everything I can never forget why I do what I do. Can't let myself ever forget that, or it all means nothing.*_

_*It can't just mean nothing, or I'm no better than They are.*_

"Ah. Your father."

He nearly fell out of his tree, doing a sudden double take. _"Wh---??"_

"The original Kaitou Kid—he was your father, wasn't he?" The words were very quiet; a trace of what might have been sympathy was wound through them, as fine and thin as a red silk thread.

At the sudden agitated shower of leaves and drops from overhead, Conan shook his head impatiently. "Give me a break—I *do* have a brain, and the facts add up. Kaitou Kid went missing almost a decade ago after an upsurge of activity, which probably means he had been after a particular target—the 'end' his murderers were also trying for, correct? Then, eight years later, _*you* showed up on the scene. I'd say that makes you out for revenge for the loss of your father." The voice was still rather cool, but far less icy than it had been. _

"Revenge….." the young man in the tree muttered, staring blankly out over the park. "It'd be nice if it were that simple. I don't just want to _find the target—I want to __destroy it. It's… a bit complicated." Then he growled, scrabbling one hand through his hair; more droplets rained down over the boy, who ignored them. "But you know what, Kudo? You want to know the __*main reason* why I do what I do?" It felt oddly good to finally __talk about it to somebody, even an enemy— if that's what Kudo was—_

"It's not because they took my dad away from me… and yeah, you're right, he was the original. It's not because one day almost ten years ago a little boy came home from school and found out he'd never see his father again; it's not even because a good man died—and he _WAS a good man, no matter what he did for a living….. Revenge? Well, maybe that's why I started out doing what I do, but… now….." He ground his teeth, the words coming harder as anger flamed up inside, the anger that never quite went away._

_"Now….. the bastards that began this whole thing… if I let them get away with what they've done, I'm no better than they are. My father wasn't their only victim. And if you know anything at all about me, you know I __don't let people get hurt if I can help it."_

Conan— Kudo— nodded. "I know. If you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Hei-san spared a slightly startled glance at the boy below him, then nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, well….. I've got my standards too." He sighed, wiping drops of what might be either rain or sweat from his face; it was hard to tell. After a moment he laughed a little wryly. "Y'know, I've just told you things nobody else has _ever heard before—if you wanted to find out who I was, you could probably do it with some heavy fieldwork. So if I really *was* the villain I'm supposed to be, this is where the blackmail threats would start—__right, 'Conan-kun'?__"_

_*And you know what? I could really make you sweat, Kudo; I really could. I could wring you out and hang you up to dry, if I wanted to… you've got more than just you to protect now—*_

_*And I admit, it's tempting, if only because you're the only person to ever beat me at my game. But I won't. I don't do that sort of crap. I wonder if you know how lucky you really are, though…..*_

He became aware of the gulf of tense silence below him and shook his head ruefully. "Time for you to give ME a break, Kudo—didn't I just _say that nobody gets hurt? Quit worrying; I'm not going to rat on you—OR your cute little girlfriend, either. So chill out."_

Hei-san was aware of a deep breath being released from below; he studiously ignored it, considering that a wisecrack right _now would probably be risking another pinecone (just as carefully placed as the last one had been, too—he wasn't idiot enough to think that Kudo had MISSED what he had aimed for…) He spent a moment or two settling his own breathing; this hadn't exactly been the sort of conversation he had envisioned when he had planned their little confrontation….._

What was that old saying about 'the best-laid plans of mice and men'?? _*Should've been more something like 'the best-laid plots of Phantom Thieves and Detectives…..' Hell if I ever thought we'd be having a fairly reasonable conversation with each other, even if one of us is up a tree and the other one's under a HelloKitty umbrella.*_

A faint grin began to creep across his face, dispelling the tension that had been residing there for far too long. _*Must be 'Yumi-chan's influence on me—seems like I'm back to the level of playing "Cops and Robbers" all over again.* "Now, back to the main point of today's discussion group…" he prompted the silent form below him; "We've covered MY end of this little topic— what about you? Planning to drop by the park next Friday with a few squad-cars, helicopters, police battalions and armored tanks?" He smirked down through the leaves._

The boy below him raised an eyebrow. "You think pretty highly of yourself, don't you? The answer's 'No'….. though I'll be damned if I can say why."

"Tsk, tsk… little boys shouldn't swear, y'know—" The look he received in answer spoke entire _volumes. Hei-san chuckled and leaned forward a bit, propping his chin up and wiping away a trickle of water that had seeped past his hood. "I'll tell you why, Kudo, and you can make of it whatever you feel like. We've got something in common—a little girl neither of us wants to see get hurt or upset. And __you—" he waved a hand at the boy, sprinkling him with droplets "__you owe me one, as you pointed out yourself. Who opened that storage room you were in? Who yanked 'Yumi-chan out of the way? Who—"_

A highly annoyed snort from below made him stop, as Hei-san's common sense circuits cut in. _*Better not point those little details out too much, or he'll get even grouchier than he is. Don't wanna give him an ulcer—or a reason to kick another pine-cone my way either, for that matter* "Anyway, this isn't __really about Ayumi completely, is it? It's a territory thing—you want to see how many blocks you can set up in front of me and ****__I want to see how many I can leap over."_

He laughed at the boy's face; the look of outrage sat rather peculiarly on the childish features.

"Well, I'm flexible—but only so far. I'll keep your secret, but as for Ayumi-chan--? Don't ask me to stop teaching her—it'd break her heart, and besides…" He laughed a little, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "… I'd miss her too. Even Phantom Thieves need the occasional friend."

_*We both have double lives, Kudo, but you have company in yours. It's sort of a tradeoff—I get time to be my normal self at school and all that, but I'm pretty much on my own here. You, on the other hand, have to be Conan all the time—but you've got Rin-kun and a few other people who know who you really are. I don't want to give up my little apprentice, and I won't give ground to you, dammit!*_

_*Now—the question is: Is this a stalemate, or can we work this out?*_

Silence again; they seemed to be doing a lot of that. The sky was beginning to lighten somewhat as the thin rain lessened from a drizzle to a mist. Already the shadows were starting to lengthen towards late afternoon, but Hei-san realized with an internal start that they had been talking for a fairly short time, really. _*Heh; feels like it's been hours.* The boy below him was beginning to look a little less surly; a thoughtful look was replacing the outrage, and the thief felt a distinct sense of relief. An angry Kudo was __not a good thing._

"So…" he prompted—

"So…" said Conan at precisely the same time-- 

They stared at each other, nonplussed; then the thief in the branches overhead grinned down. "'Women and children first'…."

The boy snorted, but eyed him with a certain gleam of amusement. "One more question—" (the thief above him opened his mouth) "—and if you say whatever smartass comment you've got on the tip of your tongue, I'll send another pinecone after you—" (The thief closed his mouth.) "Good. Okay: WHY should I trust you not to involve Ayumi? If you _do get caught, what happens to her then? Or had you __thought of that?"_

The thief sighed, a little of the humor that had crept back into his face leaking away. "Yes, I *had* thought of it—it's why I'm using 'Hei-san' as my name, really. IF I get caught—note that I say 'IF'—'Yumi-chan doesn't know me as Kaitou Kid; all she knows is 'Hei-san', and that's how I plan on things staying. Believe me, Kudo, I will *NOT* get her into trouble. She's a sweet kid and I like her—you don't need to worry on her account." He studied the figure below him. "One more thing-- Ayumi trusts me, y'know; maybe you should trust *her* judgment, hm? After all," he added rather pointedly, a slightly wicked light in his own eyes, "I'm trusting YOU on her advice….."

Well, that wasn't _quite true—he *had* been watching Kudo for some time now and thought he had a pretty good grasp of the guy's character. But a little embellishment didn't hurt in this case._

Hesitation; Hei-san could see it in the narrow shoulders below him, the indecisive frown and the way the boy's fists tightened on the shaft of the umbrella. _*If I wanted to, I could just stop showing up on Friday afternoons… if I wanted to, and if I really thought 'Yumi might be in any danger from meeting with me, I would. But I don't want to, and I honestly don't see a problem—IF the Shrimp here'll hold off calling in the entire Metro Police Force down on me. It's a real risk, but--*_

_*Hmmm….. what about…..*_

"Look—I realize I'm probably being stupid, but-- I'll tell you what: Let's make this park a sort of 'neutral ground', okay? You don't want to upset Ayumi-chan, and neither do I, so-- I won't bring Kid business into the park… and Kudo Shinichi can stay separate from Edogawa Conan, as far as I'm concerned. What do you think?" 

The small figure under the HelloKitty umbrella looked up, raising _both eyebrows this time. For a second Hei-san thought he would refuse….._

And then he nodded, a wry and unchildlike smile crossing the young face. "I said 'truce' earlier, and… I guess that can stand—for the moment, at least, and *only* when you're not in… 'active' mode? For Ayumi-kun's sake, if nothing else—"

Hei-san blew out a relieved breath. "Suites me. When I'm here, I'll just be 'Hei-san'—and you'll just be Conan-kun, her friend—who'll stay safely on the other side of the park, okay? And no funny business with the darts or those little radios, either. OR binoculars." 

The boy rolled his eyes, then nodded. "No funny business, fine." Then he glared up at the thief with a sharp look. "But steal ONE thing while you're here and all bets are off."

The young man in the tree looked hurt. "I do *not* steal during off-hours, Kudo; it's against the Phantom Thief Union Rules, y'know….."

Conan snorted, tugging his glasses off and attempting to wipe the drop-spotted lenses on his shirt tail. He shivered; although the majority of the rain had stopped, the fine mist that had replaced it tended to creep inside jackets with easy, making everything a little too cool and damp. "Okay… so Kaitou Kid never enters the park or Ayumi's life; if you can do that… the truce can stand. _Here, at least—" and he aimed a sudden, startling grin as wicked as any of the Kid's up at the figure in the tree above him, who jumped slightly. "Anywhere else that you show up, though—that's a different matter entirely."_

Hei-san blinked down at him, slightly unnerved by that grin. "Agreed—and I'll keep quiet about your past here or elsewhere; fair enough." _*That'll work—I get to keep my little apprentice, and Kudo can stop worrying about whether or not I'm gonna blow his house down around his and his girlfriend's preadolescent ears. Heh; if he's like this now, how bad is he going to be when he hits puberty all over again? Horrible thought…* "Got any more questions? It's getting late and I need to head out—__without any watchers, of course….."_

The boy below him gave him an entirely too innocent smile. "Of course." He shoved his glasses back up his nose with one finger. "There _IS one more thing I'd like to ask, purely out of curiosity… if you don't mind?"_

Hei-san gave him a slightly suspicious look; Kudo was being polite, and it made him nervous. "What?"

_"WHY do you keep using my voice?" The question was almost plaintive._

The thief in the tree blinked. "Huh??--- Oh. Right." _*Now, how do I put this? I could just tell him that I decided to mimic his 'Kudo' voice to put Ayumi at her ease….. Nah, screw it. You don't start off a truce with a lie.* "Um, don't quite know how to tell you this, but… apparently we sort of sound alike. I noticed it during the Clock Tower incident, back when you were, er….." Hei-san's voice trailed off as he searched for the proper adjective; the scowl he was getting suggested that short jokes would NOT be welcome. "…. er, taller?" He grinned down through the leaves at the boy, who raised one eyebrow and chuckled._

Conan closed his umbrella with a _snap! and a rustle of nylon; the rain had finally stopped. "Guess I'll be on my way, then. I'll keep my end of the bargain and expect you to keep yours as well—you won't have to worry about my watching you leave or tracing your location, nothing like that. Fair enough?" The boy shook raindrops from his hair as he stooped to pick up his wristwatch from the ground; they glinted in the dim rays of the sun that were just beginning to break through the clouds overhead._

Hei-san nodded. "Works for me. I'd shake your hand but I'd really rather keep my anonymity just now, since I don't have my hat and monocle and it's daylight; wouldn't want to give you an unfair advantage….." The boy shrugged, a small smile tugging at one corner of his mouth; as he turned to walk away, he chuckled again. "What's so funny?" demanded the thief above him, beginning to plan his descent.

Conan glanced back over his shoulder at the figure above and behind him. "Just the bit about our voices being alike—it's kind of funny, but we _*look* pretty much alike too—or we would, if I hadn't shrunk." He propped the closed umbrella on his opposite shoulder._

The thief in the branches froze. "And… you would know this **_*how*?" he asked carefully, his heart full of dread….._**

The boy smirked, still looking back; his eyes gleamed with amusement in the late light of afternoon. "Let's just say that most little kids tend to have _excellent eyesight—and those leaves didn't really cover as much as you probably thought they did." _

Hei-san's mouth dropped open.** _*OooooShit.*_**

"Should've kept your hood pulled down better, too….." 

And with that he walked away across the rain-wet grass, whistling. It was quite a while—nearly an hour, in fact—before the thief in the tree behind him was able to climb down without shaking.

*************************************************************

Thursday afternoon…..

Slouched at his desk, Inspector Nakamori Ginzo frowned down at a building plan and chewed irritably on his moustache. This had _not been his week, not at all; in fact, as weeks went, he was beginning to think it qualified for the Grand National 'Bite Me' Award. As his eyes traced possible entrances and exits on the blueprints, he mentally chalked off a list of private and personal grievances:_

_One: The current Kaitou Kid riddle was being a pain in the wazoo….._

_Two: He had been up too late, scratching his head over said riddle, and his eyes were gritty with the lack of sleep……_

_Three: This building was ALSO going to be a pain— asinine modernistic architecture, full of angles and weird little alcoves-- posting guards was going to be a nightmare….._

_Four: He was in the process of __quitting smoking. That ALONE was cause enough for the entire Kaitou Kid Task Force to start shaking in their uniformed shoes….._

He growled, rubbing at his temples with one hand and wondering if Aoko would *really* notice if he snuck just one cigarette— Nahh, scratch that; his daughter had a nose like a bloodhound, and she'd catch the scent on his jacket even if he took it off. Hell, she'd figure it out even if he stripped butt-naked and smoked a half a cig in the men's john! _WHY had he picked *this* week of all weeks to quit?_

_*Rrrrrrrrrrgh!!!* The Inspector tried desperately to think of something else._

For instance….. _*Let's see-- I can post two men by the back left entrance on the inside, two outside-- Two more in charge of general surveillance, a handful around the perimeter outside, a couple—no, better make that a half-dozen—in the courtyard between the East and West wings….. Looks like their usual security's just your basic college rent-a-cop roaming unarmed types—they're practically screaming 'Target Here!' for Kid.*_

_*Three-story building, only one opening onto the roof….. skylights over the main exhibit hall, open courtyard with a fountain and some sort of ornamental walkway from the third-floor East to the West overhead….. Huh. And as for the target…..*_

It had taken some major mental sweat, but Nakamori was pretty certain he had at least sorted out the basic facts of the riddle. The exhibit opening on the following day at the local University was _just the sort of thing Kid liked—lots of entrances and exits, and lots of nice, shiny jewels to scoop up. It was one of the international 'traveling ehibits', moving from college to college; historical things, for the most part. __THIS one just happened to be a multi-cultural jewelry exhibition._

_'Even Time bows before the Princess when she is present'….._

_*Time, time… he always indicates *when* he'll strike. I've missed that in the past, but practice makes perfect—and he loves to use obvious things. There's a clock right over where the main exhibit cases will be-- and I doubt he'll show up in the daylight. So—when does a clock look like it's bowing?*_

Nakamori grinned; it was not a very nice grin. _*When both its hands are hanging down. Six-thirty p.m.*_

And as for the 'Princess'….. that part was almost *too* easy. The glittering crème-de-la-crème of the whole show was an icy, glittering thing of diamonds and silver: a nineteenth-century tiara that had once belonged to a Princess of Belgium. It would rest in all its glory in a spotlighted, specially-made revolving case _right below the clock._

What could be more obvious?

As for the rest of the riddle….. 

_The Sun hides his face when confronted by her beauty_

_As she ascends to Heaven in a cloud of angels' wings._

Sunset—he had checked the time, and it was listed as six-twenty-eight p.m., which was off by a minute or so, but… hell; it made sense, or as much sense as Kid's riddles _ever made-- Nakamori was fairly proud of his logic on this one._

He gnawed on his moustache again; that last line, though….. angels' wings? _What angels? It wasn't Christmas-time, so that reference was out… he had looked at every possible tag-end of info on the hall and there was nothing even remotely connected with angels there—no statuary, pictures, stained-glass images, nothing. No slang phrases associated with a certain door – no college professor's nicknamed 'angel' or any variations thereof (although that line of investigation had produced some amusing results; he wondered if the Dean of Agricultural Studies was aware that his students called him 'Weevil' behind his back). Nothing to do with angels….._

That _bothered him. Kid never put anything in his riddles without a reason—even that goddamned 'April Fool' greeting with the Black Pearl case had indicated that the whole thing was a feint, not that he had realized it at the time._

_*Rrrrgh; need a SMOKE!!* And his @#$#@!! nicotine patches were __itching, to make matters worse__. Nakamori was about three seconds away from shredding the blueprints in front of him (the second set that day), when a polite knock on his office door made him jump. He looked up with a scowl on his face and a faint, evil hope in his heart that whoever-it-was was somebody he could yell at._

No such luck—it was just his lunch being delivered. The young office aide edged in the door, tray in hand and a look of trepidation on her face. The news that the Inspector was attempting to break his smoking habit had circulated with all the speed of a thundering herd of wildebeest, sending various office personnel off on day-long errands just in case their paths might have to cross. Nakamori had a reputation already, and _this little addition to his usual temper was like pouring salt on a wound. _

The aide carefully placed the tray on the corner of the disgruntled man's desk with all the air of a lowly Second Wife presenting her firstborn child for her husband's approval; at Nakamori's grunt, she edged thankfully out of the office—

"What's THIS??"

_--almost out of the office, that is. The aide swallowed nervously. "Ummm, __Sir? It's your-- your lunch?"_

"No, THIS." He waved a small white envelope at her; she hadn't noticed it—it had been tucked away beneath the lidded bowl, half-hidden by the paper napkins. The aide indicated her ignorance with a sort of combination terrified-grimace-and-headshake, and then at his grumbling "Oh, never mind—" scurried out of the office. The door swung quietly shut behind her with a distinctly relieved _click._

He turned the offending piece of paper over in his hands; it was small, not even a real envelope—just a folded bit of paper that had been taped shut. Something small, flat and brightly-colored fell out when he tore it open, accompanied by a thin slip of paper…..

_Chew on this—it'll help stop the cravings. Best of luck quitting smoking!_

KAITOU KID

_*?????* He turned the object over and read the label: __TENSAI LABS -- NICOTINE GUM. The wrappings peeled easily away in his slightly shaky fingers to reveal what indeed looked to be a pack of chewing gum of some sort; a faint, minty scent met his nostrils._

_*RRRRGHHH!!! @#$#@@%!!! If I ever get my hands on him I swear I'll--- hrrm; Nicotine gum?*_

_*Nicotine…..?* His eyes widened; the pack of gum suddenly looked __very appealing. __*(Wonder if it really works?)* Suspiciously the Inspector unwrapped a stick. No puncture marks, no apparent booby traps or odd stains (and poison was emphatically NOT the Kid's style anyway). He sniffed it with care; no smells of atomic-level hotsauce or anything else of the sort—just spearmint. Wondering if desperation had finally snuffed out his remaining gray cells, Nakamori slipped it into his mouth._

He held his breath, fully expecting the worst; it didn't happen. _*Hrm; minty. Not too bad, either…..* The Inspector chewed cautiously._

_*Nicotine gum… Obviously there's no possibility I could be even remotely grateful to Kid for anything whatsoever, and obviously any contacts from him have to be reported per procedure and all that crap, right?* He closed his eyes as a lovely, lovely gum-induced chemical rush swept sweetly through his bloodstream, slowly clearing the fog from his thoughts and at least a little of the homicidal adrenaline from his nerves. __*Yeah, guess I'll have to report this….. sooner or later. Later sounds good. Got more important things to think about anyway.* The Inspector carefully tucked the precious pack of gum away in his inner lapel pocket._

Nakamori Ginzo leaned back in his chair and stretched wearily; the springs beneath the leather seat squeaked as he tilted his head backwards to rest on his clasped hands, allowing his eyes to drift shut in exhaustion. The last day or so had been a combination of the usual irritation and outrage generated by a Kid "calling card" and the general excitement and mostly unacknowledged glee produced by the same. Not that he _*wanted* Kid to attempt a theft (Hell, no!)—the bastard was too goddamned good at what he did for that—but Kid's capture was the Inspector's chief goal in life, after all._

His _capture, though__….. *not* his __death. And that little thought brought him back to something that he had been considering for several weeks now, ever since that hideous mess-- the one his mind persisted in thinking of as the Dog-Collar Heist._

That had NOT been a normal Kid encounter, no, not at all…..

* * *

_It had been such a stupid target—some brainless English aristocrat several centuries past had been rich enough and bone-numbingly moronic enough to ornament his favorite hunting-dog's collar with an impressive array of large stones. They weren't anything incredibly valuable, just an assortment of beryl and rather low-grade topaz for the most part—but for some reason Kid had been interested. The usual riddle had been delivered, Nakamori had sweated it out (he'd only been able to work out the target and date of attempt that time), and then he'd spent the entire evening camped out in the bushes outside the collar owner's overly-ostentatious mansion, scratching at insect bites and chain-smoking one cigarette after another._

_Kid had shown up as promised and snatched the goods (the Inspector winced as he recalled that once more his men (and himself) just hadn't been quick enough) and had been merrily dodging the usual scream-and-leap attacks from his uniformed foes as he charged for the nearest wall, obviously intending a quick vault-over and exit-----_

_----- when a flurry of SHOTS rang out. Nakamori's head had jerked around so fast he had nearly gotten whiplash looking for the shot's source; his men all *knew* not to shoot; who the flaming Hell had had the gall to ignore HIS orders?!? He had snarled and staggered to his feet (a leap of his own had sent him nosediving into a bush), wheeling around and yelling himself blue in the face—_

_---and his men were suddenly falling, they were falling or throwing themselves down around him with shouts and screams---_

_Kid had dropped and rolled before the shot's echoes had even begun to fade; for half a second or so Nakamori had almost thought he would be arresting a corpse (he'd found himself to be annoyingly relieved to see that the thief was still alive and apparently unhurt). Rising to his feet, the familiar white-clad figure had looked upwards towards the roof, and the Inspector had involuntarily followed his line of sight._

_Two figures were silhouetted against the sky, lying in true sniper pose at the edge of the roof; Nakamori had drawn a sharp breath at the gleam and jerk of a weapon as another report rang out, then another— He had shouted something inarticulate as Kid had suddenly slammed himself sideways, smashing the Inspector once again face downwards into the dirt—_

_He had screamed with rage—his MEN were being HIT— GODDAMMIT, he needed to get UP!!!_

_For the space of a few seconds there had been nothing but echoing gunfire and shouts and the cold roughness of dirt and grass against his face (and that weight against his back, a human weight that had acted as a living shield; he had had to acknowledge that later). Then a cry from the rooftop and a final flurry of shots had led to silence, and the weight had suddenly been gone._

_Spitting out blades of grass and crumbs of earth, the sputtering and infuriated Inspector had risen to his knees; he was hurting—one shoulder was numb, and he had a gash across his forehead where he had struck something hard and sharp, a rock or something. He hadn't been so battered, however, that he had missed the fact that someone had just tried to gun Kid down. Someone who was emphatically NOT a member of the police force, and they apparently didn't give a damn about who else they hit—_

_No, that was wrong, it was wrong and he knew it deep in his bones—they *HAD* been trying to hit the police as well, himself especially. *Clean sweep, they want Kid and the person who knows the most about him dead* he had thought numbly, heart pounding with rage and shock. This was NOT part of the usual routine….._

_Kid was leaning against the wall, breathing hard, his head hanging down; for once he wasn't cracking jokes or making flippant remarks. Nakamori had choked as the mansion's floodlights clearly revealed the black singe-mark scorched across the length of one sleeve; the bullet had just barely, barely missed his arm, traveling almost delicately across the cloth and past his neck to impact in the stone wall. If the thief hadn't been so goddamned fast, he *would* have been a corpse._

_And he had knocked him out of the way._

_Then Kaitou Kid had looked up, and Nakamori had found himself meeting that piercing, mostly-hidden gaze. The shouts and outcries all around them had seemed to recede into the background, and the Inspector had heard the Phantom Thief's whisper as if it had been right beside his ear:_

_"Nakamori-san—there are bigger and more dangerous fish in the sea than me—and you'll be seeing them again. I'd watch out, if I were you; no one here was supposed to leave this place alive tonight."_

_For the barest flash of a second they had continued to stare at each other through the dark and the shouts and the glass of a monocle's lens—_

_—and then Kid had been moving, streaking past the cops (who had been converging on the figures on the rooftop anyway). Fifteen seconds later he was so far gone that he might not ever have been there at all, except for the two dead snipers (one by a policeman's bullet, one by his own gun), four wounded cops, one missing jeweled dog-collar, and one severely shaken Inspector Nakamori Ginzo._

_Two days later the collar had been returned, safely fastened around the neck of a stuffed toy dog (along with a box of chocolates marked 'For The Wounded') and delivered to Nakamori's own home doorstep by an anonymous hand. There had been one other thing: a small note, tucked beneath the collar, folded into the shape of an origami shark. The note had contained only nine words but they had been quite enough to make the Inspector sit in his living room for the next hour or so, smoking cigarette after cigarette mind working furiously….._

_They're after you too now. Watch your back…… KID_

* * *

That had been when he had started really _thinking about things. Not the normal things associated with Kid either—the game had changed, and new players had entered in. Or had they been there all along? And if they had, WHY did they suddenly show their hands so—so goddamn __blatently *now*, after so many heists?_

Just who _*had* he pissed off lately, that they should want him as well as Kid dead?_

Nakamori knew he had a tendency towards tunnel-vision; sometimes it was even useful, allowing him to narrow down his search on a crime or criminal to a level of accuracy that some of his more easygoing colleagues envied. He was no Sherlock Holmes or Sleeping Kogoro (he had met the man, and frankly he thought he was a blithering moron)… but you didn't make the rank of Inspector by being a total incompetent, either. Nakamori had an excellent record of captures and successful cases; it wasn't as if catching Kaitou Kid was his _only occupation….._

Maybe that was why his consistent escapes rankled so much. But he'd be damned if he let some gun-toting bastards take down *his* favorite target.

So: why the sudden visible presence of a third party and the attempted murder? Several possibilities had sprung to mind, the first being that Kid had fallen afoul of a business partner or two-- kaitous, as a class of thief, had often worked in the past for the highest bidder. But… he always returned what he stole (for whatever insane reason of his own), so THAT was probably out. Another possibility was that a past theft had yanked a gem-owner's chain so badly that they had decided to gun him down in revenge—but that theory had its own problems; the annoyed party would have to know where he would strike next…..

If they didn't have access to his notes (and Nakamori was fairly certain that they hadn't gotten hold of the dog-collar one—it had somehow managed to find its way inside his personal, desk-delivered newspaper two days before the heist), then there had to be a link between the gems.

That damned dog-collar…..

It hadn't been particularly valuable at all; a lot of Kid's past thefts hadn't. The gems stolen had ranged across the gamut from amber to diamond and everything in between—the only obvious link was that they were _gems. A little thought and any number of chain-smoked cigarettes produced Link Number Two: they were, without exception, *old*. Every one of them had been an antique—no new gems, nothing freshly cut. The Black Star, the Green Dream, the Golden Eye (__why did famous gems all have such stupid names?)—every one of them was a historical treasure. Even that idiot dog-collar….._

But there were a _LOT of famous, historical gems—why weren't they all targets? Opportunity? No, Kid tended to *make* his own opportunities if they weren't available. So….. he needed the next link. And for some reason, he had this dim little tag-end of memory kicking him in his mental posterior—hadn't he assigned somebody to check out the gems, maybe a few months back?_

He needed a motive, too—those snipers had been well-hidden and organized, and one of them had taken his *own life* when escape had proved impossible. What kind of incentive made _*THAT* option attractive??_

Too many questions….. and if the next heist ended in a bloodbath, he had just better hope that he went down with his men before the guilt killed him. Of course, considering Kid's little message, that _was a possibility._

Most of all, the Inspector needed the next link. So he started looking…….

Nakamori loved the Internet—he flat out loved it. He didn't USE it himself, not beyond the local office LAN for his emails and so on, but he could set a handful of the data-and-research crew downstairs a topic and they'd come back to him in a day or so with a chunk of accurate, verifiable info that he could stare at, doodle on, and draw diagrams against (he was big on writing down his thoughts, even if nobody else could read his handwriting). Sitting at his desk, he chewed on his moustache and began to go over the Kid-related research topics he had assigned. Sure enough, there it was…..

One of the brighter geeks down in Research had popped out a sort of 'biography' of every target Kid had gone after during his career, listing the histories and past owners of the gems as well as any common points. At the time he had read through it, wincing at the occasional painful memory, and then shuttled the file away into his own personal database. Beyond that, he hadn't given it another thought.

Well, apparently someone _else had. The file had been hacked, he was sure of it… because, staring at the words on the screen before him, he had suddenly had an—well, you could harly call it an 'idea' as such; more of a line of conjecture or a suspicion, really. There was this faint memory nagging at him from when he had read the file before about all the annoying, stupid *legends* that gems seemed to collect….._

Legends. Myths. Fabled properties…..

Nakamori growled to himself, just under his breath, and wished violently for a cigarette. He popped another stick of gum from its wrapper and reached for the phone on his desk.

_***tap-tap-tappa-tap………. beep***_

"Research? Nakamori here….."

* * *

Two hours later the Inspector stared at the results on his desk; they had been in the report all along—he just hadn't *looked* at them the right way, and (more to the point) he hadn't read far enough into the file. There before his eyes lay a rather peculiar graph, compiled by somebody down in Research who had apparently had a little time on their hands and a speck of imagination.

It charted the so-called 'magical' properties of Kid's targets. AND it was so damned bizarre that Nakamori was _absolutely certain that it had never been done before… or at least not in any official capacity._

_*Legends and myths, goddamned myths and legends….. Every one of them, every @#$#@#!! gem stolen from about a year before he disappeared and since he reappeared. Every flaming one has some stupid-ass myth associated with it. Never mind the occasional painting or baseball—he's mostly stolen gems, and…..*_

_*Legends. Legends that this gem can heal wounds, that gem can bring the dead to life, and the other gem can extend your youth indefinitely. Total bullshit, of course; no chunk of shiny rock can do shit like that.* Of course, whether or not the legends were true didn't actually matter when you got right down to it; catching a perp depended on understanding what THEY thought was real, not what YOU did. If they believed that God only allowed them to wear bright red socks on Tuesdays, then you went looking for people wearing bright red socks on Tuesdays whether or not it was logical._

Nakamori rubbed at his temples; his head hurt.

Something else occurred to him then, and with a slowly sinking heart he tapped away on his keyboard to check it….. _*DAMN. I was right. That's why they targeted me, isn't it? Everybody knows that Kid steals gems, but— Aw, SHIT.* The file had been stored in his *personal drive*. Wonderful—the file properties listed HIS name as the owner and originator—_

The Inspector stared at the tiny bit of data that had apparently sent two snipers out with *his* name inscribed on their hit list alongside Kid's. _*Goddamn. Hit the jackpot, didn't I?* This one little fact, listed under his name and in his files, had made him a threat to Somebody somewhere, someone so terrifying that one of the assassins had actually killed himself rather than be taken prisoner and interrogated. *That* thought led to ugly considerations regarding just __why they had been afraid to be taken into police custody….._

He felt sweat beginning to bead on the back of his neck. If he couldn't trust his own fellow cops, if the sniper had been afraid that someone within the department would get to him, then—

Nakamori stared at the file; the facts stared him right back in the face.

There was a certain thing about identifying links—you could predict a trend. If the file actually _HAD been hacked (and he was more certain of it now than ever), then whoever-the-hell-they-were could possibly predict Kid's next target even without the note—after all, the thief had been working exclusively in Japan ever since his reappearance, and there were only so many unusual gems with rumored mysterious properties on display…_

Frowning, he turned his attention back to his previous notes, flipping through the growing pile of paper on his desk. Tomorrow's target--- what about it, did _it have any myths associated with it?_

One more call down to research had *that* little line of inquiry being followed up….. he would see the results today before he headed home or somebody would find their ass in a sling. There was no way in hell Nakamori was going into the situation on the following day unprepared…..

_*Just hope that goddamned Kid is prepared too-- I'd rather see the bastard get away than end up shot dead.* The Inspector popped another stick of nicotine gum into his mouth and chewed, wishing violently that he hadn't flushed all his cigarettes down the john. This was turning into a very, VERY long day….._

*************************************************************

Halfway across town, other people were making their preparations for the heist as well.

_"You want to be a hero with the axe about to fall, ___

_  
You'd do it for the love and for the glory, for it all…"_

Kuroba Kaito sang the English lyrics half beneath his breath as he approached the University building; he had run across a little-known American group called _Cats Laughing on the Internet (weird bunch of folks—they were all authors of one sort or another), and their songs tended to stick in a person's head._

_"You want to dress in black and lose your heart beyond recall,_

_Hunt a dream through rain and thunder on your honor, for it all—"_

He grinned to himself, kicking at a pebble as he walked; the stone ricocheted off a nearby pole back into his path, and he veered slightly so as to pick on it again—he'd been moving that little bit of rock steadily along for the last two blocks, just for fun. Those lyrics….. _*It should be 'white', not black-- Got a heist tomorrow!!* Kaito gave the pebble a particularly intricate little kick this next time, shooting it along to ping off of __two poles and a Do Not Park sign; it plopped down neatly into the center of a tiny sidewalk flowerbed, scarcely disturbing a leaf as it landed._

_*Heist, heist, heist….* His thoughts danced in anticipation; this was always how he was just before a job—full of anticipation, nerves on edge in a way that was half-uncomfortable, half-thrilling… Kaito knew it was mostly adrenaline, a chemical high that made his muscles tighten and his thoughts turn predatory._

He loved it—he absolutely LOVED it; it was such a _*rush.* He shivered deep inside._

Somewhere deep in the back of his mind the young thief knew that what he was doing was—how did it go? Oh right, reprehensible, illegal, immoral and just plain _wrong… but when he had his plans worked up and his goal targeted, somehow Kuroba Kaito seemed to recede into the background behind Kaitou Kid—and that was how it had to be, really. Doubts and misgivings would only screw him up and get him killed, especially now._

Oh yeah—ESPECIALLY now, since the Boys in Black had finally made their move. _*That* had been unexpected….. Kaito's grin faded as he recalled the last time, all the shooting and commotion and the smells of gunpowder and blood—_

_*Bastards. They HURT people that time, almost killed some of 'em. Nakamori… no doubt about it, they were aiming for him as well as for me. I don't know why— he must've found out something that makes him a threat-- I just hope he'll pay attention to that warning I sent him. He probably will; no matter how much he slips up in some things, he's not fool enough to disregard the facts.*_

The attack had shaken him badly; for days afterwards he had seethed inside, sick at heart that somebody had gotten _*hurt* during one of his heists—Hell, both of the snipers had __died. He hadn't really wanted that (had he? A small part of him deep inside wasn't at all sure), but what was done was done. What really bothered him was the poor cops who had gone down with bullets in their bodies—none of the had been killed, but if he had had his way none of them would've gotten hurt in the first place. And Nakamori—_

He still remembered seeing the flash on the rooftop as the rifle-barrel had shifted slightly to the left; in that frozen, fleeting second he had _known they weren't aiming for him, and all he could think of was *__NOT AOKO'S DAD--!!*_

All humor gone now, he sighed and scratched irritably at the back of his head, being careful not to upset his wig (his on-campus persona had dark auburn hair, freckles, a fair skin and brown eyes; the contacts were a bit itchy too, though the wire-framed glasses were okay. 'Ken Takinada' tended towards sweatshirts and faded jeans and stood a good inch-and-a-half taller than one Kuroba Kaito, high-school student). This next heist could very well be as much of a problem as the last, and he knew it. But at least Nakamori was prepared this time.

There was nothing Kaito could really do but keep his eyes open, really.

As he reached the building that housed the jewelry exhibit, the exhilaration began to bubble back up inside him; there was something so—so—Hell, he needed a _word here: exciting? thrilling? No, not quite right, but something like that—about planning a heist. Walking around, going about his business like a good little innocent bystander… and all the while knowing that tonight *this* would happen *here*, and *that* would happen *there*….._

And _nobody else but him knew. Not yet, in any case._

If he couldn't find a word, someday he'd have to make one up, just to fit the feeling of _anticipation-nervousness-confidence-fear-euphoria that came with simply being Kaitou Kid, several hours before pulling a job. And, of course, there was that newly added flavor of __*terror* as well, brought about by snipers' bullets….. He had to keep that in mind as well; it was too damned easy to get cocky._

Oh well….. 

He shrugged to himself, shifting the strap of the nylon camera-bag on his shoulder—it kept getting tangled with his backpack—and slipping his camera out. It was an older model, one that had belonged to his dad; a pretty good piece of equipment, really, just the sort of thing a guy with a photo journalism major might be using, nothing flashy or unaffordable… it never hurt to have the right props. It never hurt to have a specially-designed camera that took photos from no less than _*four apertures* at one time, either—straight ahead as usual, but also straight up and to either side as well. You just had to load the film very carefully, aim correctly, and keep your thumbs out of the pictures._

'Ken Takinada' shoved his glasses up his nose, stepping back a bit to get a proper picture of the building for what he would have assured any askers was a somewhat boring assignment that he really didn't want to be doing anyway, not when he could be out taking pictures of something more interesting. But a grade was a grade, right? So Ken snapped one or two pictures, then plunked up the steps into the cool interior.

Glass cases in the main room and in the left-hand wing, all filled with the fine gleam and glitter of polished stone and metal—European, Asian, you name it. Not a bad exhibit at all; 'ethnicity' was big this year, so a lot of unusual cultural groups were being covered by this display: Lithuanian, Romany, Egyptian, East Indian….. Ken edged his way through the moderate crowds, taking the occasional picture and scribbling down notes on the exhibit flyer he had picked up on the way in. Nobody paid him much attention, which was fine with him; he just wanted to take his pics and go do something more interesting.

Besides, he had already seen it all before….. at about 4 a.m. that morning, to be precise, when he had entered the building via the overhead skylight to prepare any number of exciting little surprises. But he hadn't been Ken then, now had he?

Nope.

Ken wandered over to the main prize of the exhibit, which sparkled importantly on its glass-enclosed pedestal: The Rose Tiara, a fanciful nineteenth-century piece of gaudiness that had once graced the coiffure of a Belgian Princess before the First World War. It was a pretty thing, as such things went; the leaves and flowers were shaped out of silver and heavily encrusted with diamonds, all centering and surrounding a single, several-karat stone in the center. Pretty, if distinctly gaudy….

Now what would make the best shot? Ken surveyed his angles, frowning just a little. He drew back a step or two, raising the camera…..

_***c-c-c-click!*** He grinned to himself; the camera sounded like it was working perfectly today._

Fifteen minutes later the young student had enough pictures to satisfy even the toughest professor (not to mention a lovely, well-lit compendium of how the cases were placed). He even had a couple of excellent shots of Nakamori, staring nervously up at the clock over the main display. Two hours and seventeen minutes to go….. The exhibit would officially close for the day at six p.m., but doubtless the guards would be there 'round the clock. Poor guys—he hoped somebody would bring them lunch from someplace other than the college cafeteria; the food there was really _terrible._

Taking a final picture of the artfully-laid-out arrangement of cases (and a couple of rather crooked views of the central skylight overhead, plus the east and west exit-doors) Ken spared a glance for the neglected right-hand wing of the exhibit hall. Not many people in there this afternoon, but it wasn't really a very exciting exhibit, was it? And it had been going on for the past two weeks, too—if you were really motivated by astronomy you might find the collection of tektites, meteorites and other natural space debris exciting, but it wasn't as downright _sparkly as the gems that took up the bulk of the building's first-floor space._

Nope, not much to see there—and there weren't many guards, either. Nice skylight overhead, though….. in fact, it matched the one in the left-hand wing exactly.

Carefully stowing his camera away with a satisfied air and a pat, Ken wandered over past several watchful policemen into the part of the exhibit which held the older, less flashy gems: a set of Victorian mourning jewelry all done in jet, a fine display of Navajo turquoise, the dowry of an East Indian princess…..

He smiled at that last, admiring the way the light gleamed off the central pendant—it was a nice bit of work, an emerald set in silver, shaped like a teardrop. Maybe it wasn't the clearest stone in the world—there was a definite haze to the center—but the Akuti's Eye, as it was called, was kind of pretty, wasn't it? You could just imagine it hanging in the center of its original owner's forehead. She had supposedly been a foreign noblewoman of some kind according to the stories; her green-eyed, exotic beauty had attracted the attention of the local Maharaja, and eventually she had ended up as his wife. The pendant had supposedly come with her from her home somewhere or other, and there were all _*sorts* of rumors about it….. like, for instance, the one that said that it could heal all ills and even make a man live forever….._

Not that these rumors were easy to find; in fact, they weren't even _online anywhere. But if you knew who to talk to, well—it was amazing just what you could find out. And being able to sneak into certain private libraries didn't hurt, either._

_*But you know, people depend too much on computers nowadays—it wouldn't kill them to crack open the occasional book when they do their research, now would it? For instance, if they had taken the trouble to check things out REALLY carefully they might have discovered that 'Akuti' means 'Princess' in Hindustani'.* Ken smirked at that, then frowned a little and cocked his head to one side; huh. Whoever had set up the exhibit hadn't been very careful, had they? He could see a slight stain underneath the pendant, marring the whiteness of the velvet backing. How tacky; what were they trying to do, make it look like he was stealing from second-class exhibits? Didn't they CARE about appearances?_

Muttering under his breath about clumsy, cack-handed museum personnel (after all, a photographer wants only the best shots, right?), Ken shrugged and headed for the exit. On the way, the occasional surreptitious glance showed him nothing unusual-looking at all about the overhead lights, which was, of course, just as it should be. Nope—nothing unusual or noticeable there at all! No fingerprints, no funny wires, no odd attachments, no teeny little heat-sensitive explosive cartridges…..

Ken grinned slightly, adjusting the set of his glasses as he thudded down the outside steps. There was a nice little ramen place just off campus, close enough to get a bite to eat at before things got moving—he'd have to make it fast, since he still had to lay out his photos (and wasn't it nice that they were self-developing, just like the old Kodak ones? His dad had really known his stuff). Under his breath, the young man hummed the chorus to the song he had been singing earlier while the words ran through his mind:

_"For it all—for it all—what you're aching for—_

_Where the magic's real and you're like a fire in the sky,_

_Where the deal calls for a sacrifice, and you know you cannot die…_

_For the edge the best ones live on, for it all."_

He hurried his pace a little, thinking about ramen noodles and emeralds.

*************************************************************

Several kilometers away, a little girl propped her chin in her hands and her elbows on her balcony rail; half-drowsy with the long, bright day behind her, Ayumi idly watched as the streetlights below flickered and came on. Her roses were really doing well; already there were new buds at the tips of the branches, and the fragrance of the blooms that had opened over the last few days was strong enough to overcome the city-scents of exhaust and warm asphalt.

She yawned; behind her the bedroom door creaked open. "Ayumi-chan? I'm leaving now… Are you sure you don't mind my going off this weekend?" Her mother sounded worried, and the child turned to enter the room, sliding the door shut behind her. "If there was any way I could get out of this trip, I would, but my office doesn't have anyone else they can send—"

Ayumi shook her head with another yawn. "It's okay, 'Kaachan… will you bring me back something nice?" Her mother laughed, nodding resignedly with a roll of her eyes. "Is Rita-kun here yet? and can I stay up late to watch that movie I asked you about, pleeeeeze? You _*said* that if I cleaned my room yesterday, you'd let me—"_

Her mother held up a hasty hand to forestall her daughter's entreaties. "Yes, I said so, and yes, I've told Rita you can stay up—but you have to go RIGHT to bed afterwards, okay?" Rita-kun was the teenaged daughter of an American family living three doors down; she often stayed with Ayumi when her mother's business took her out of town. The easy-going young woman got along well with the child, quite often allowing her to stay up a bit later than the usual with nothing said.

The little girl nodded, hugging her mother around the waist; "I promise. Have a good time, 'Kaachan, and bring me a GOOD present, please?"

Her mother chuckled and leaned down to drop a kiss on top of her daughter's head; she tickled the little girl's neck, making her jump. "And what would you call a 'good' present, 'Yumi-chan? Maybe some chocolate, or a new book?" The child squirmed, giggling and trying to tickle her mother back; the taller woman laughed again, her own giggles sounding remarkably like her daughter's as she attempted to evade the small fingers.

"Nooooo…. Can you bring me--- something about magic?" The child dodged backwards, still laughing; her mother paused with one eyebrow quirking up at the odd request.

"Magic? You mean—oh, like that little coin-trick you showed me?" Her daughter had apparently learned it from one of her friends; Yoshida Miiri had been suitably impressed (and actually a little surprised at her child's ingenuity). "I suppose I could see if there are any magic shops around the Convention Center… and if I can't find you a kit or something, maybe I can find you a book on beginner's tricks. How does that sound?"

The little girl beamed at her. "Bingo!"

Her mother cocked her head to one side, slightly surprised and amused. "'Bingo' Where on earth did you get THAT expression? From school?"

Her daughter just giggled again, hopping up on her bed and laying back with her hands clasped behind her dark head. "Can't tell you…. It's a secret." she teased, propping one ankle up on her opposite knee in a most unladylike fashion. "Have fun, 'Kaachan… Oyasumi!"

"Oyasumi, 'Yumi-chan." The woman left the room, picking up her light suitcase from the hall as she went.

From the living room the little girl could hear Rita discussing the weekend's schedule with her mother; the door opened and closed. Ayumi yawned a third time, reaching around under her pillow to pull out a slightly dog-eared library book; rolling onto her stomach she propped herself up and began to read half-aloud: _"'The Disappearing Knot Trick—Step one…..'"_

When 'Kaachan came back, she planned to surprise her—that'd be fun! And maybe she'd even be able to surprise Hei-san too…..

_"'First, you'll need a length of cotton rope and a handkerchief…..'" As she turned the page, the brightly-colored clock beside her bed ticked quietly on. The time was 6:15 p.m._

*************************************************************

Two kilometers west, a young woman worked on her homework at the kitchen table; now and then she would stop to think about a question, and when she did her fingers would occasionally wander up to the silver pendant hanging around her neck. The delicate leaves and stems were soothing to trace, and if she occasionally drifted off into other thoughts than Economics, she had reason.

She stretched a little, leaning back in her chair; Aoko had been hard at work for the past hour or so, and she was nearly done. _*Economics….. WHY would anybody want to be an economist, anyway? Boring job.* From where she sat she could see Kaito's house out the window—partially obscured, of course, by the white fuzzball that currently occupied the window's narrow ledge above the sink._

"Spot? Get down from there—you _know you're not supposed to be in the kitchen….." The kitten merely blinked at her and began to wash a paw with the supreme indifference native to __Felis Domesticus. With a sigh, Aoko stood up and reached for her pet, who adroitly avoided her fingers and leaped sproing-poing-__pounce!! onto her scatter of papers, knocking her pencil off the table. The pencil became the next cat-toy, batted across the floor as the laughing girl tried to catch her kitten. Scooping up the errant feline as well as her writing implement, Aoko plopped down cross-legged onto the floor to stroke Spot's soft fur with a gentle hand._

_"Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr……." She smiled to herself, glancing up at the window again; from here she could see Kaito's rooftop, and it reminded her of *another* rooftop the previous week._

_Kaito had purred like that too, almost, even though he had done nothing really but sit there beside her with a goofy grin on his face. The memory made her warm both on her cheekbones and deep inside._

For a few moments more they sat there, the girl and her cat; then Aoko sighed, rising to her feet to finish her homework. Dinner soon; she was getting hungry. Spot jumped from her arms to the floor, glancing meaningfully towards the cabinet where the kitty-crunchies were stored, then giving what some might have construed as a sigh (that is, if cats sighed). He waved his tail impatiently, then turned his attention to sharpening his claws on a table-leg.

The clock over the kitchen table read 6:18 p.m.

*************************************************************

Nakamori checked his watch, checked the watch of the officer behind him, and _*then* checked the clock hanging overhead for the umpteenth time that evening; still a few minutes to go. __*@#$%!!* Chomping angrily on another stick of gum (he'd already sent an office clerk out to buy several dozen packs that day), the Inspector began to go down his mental checklist: Guards in place, cameras ready, exits sealed….._

His watch read 6:20 p.m.

*************************************************************

Halfway across the city, Edogawa Conan paused, frowning, as he typed in a last command on his keyboard. Leaning over the back of his chair and resting her chin on his shoulder, the little girl behind him gave an indignant snort. "Shinichi, are you--- You're _*hacking* again! I thought you said you were going to stop that—"_

He shot her an embarrassed and slightly contrite look over one shoulder, sliding his glasses off and tossing them onto the desk beside the mousepad. "I know, I know, but… this is about Kid, and--, well, _look—" Rin peered at the screen, her scowl gradually changing to an astonished gape._

"….. Shinichi? Is this… _really Inspector Nakamori's personal notes--? If you get caught, you're going to be in SO much trouble—"_

The boy in the chair shook his head. "See this?" One finger tapped at the screen, indicating three lines; at first glance they made very little sense. "If this is what I _think it is, *he's* the one in a lot of trouble. You see—" and his eyes darkened, "—from what I can tell, I'm not the first person to hack into this file. Somebody else got here first—"_

Himitsu Rin blinked, then leaned a little forward to read_: "'Even Time bows before the Princess when she is present…..'"_

The tiny numerals at the right-hand corner of the monitor read 6:23 p.m.

*************************************************************

And in a quiet little alcove two roofs over from the building where the display was being held…..

The jacket went on, buttoned carefully over the dark blue shirt; pockets were checked for various paraphernalia and equipment, then settled into place with a shake of the shoulders.

Crimson tie. Cardgun. Smoke-bombs. Flash-grenades.

White gloves, almost ghostly in the dim light of sunset, made sure that the glider-pack on the shoulder was working correctly; a thin, billowing cloak of tightly-woven silk was adjusted almost reverently to its wearer's satisfaction.

Top hat, monocle and 4-leaf-clover charm; a Poker Face slid into place with an almost audible _snap. The shadows seemed to gather close around, wrapping its wearer in a friendly, familiar embrace, cool and sweet with the promise of the evening….._

_Showtime._

***********************************************************************************************************************************

To be continued…..

**_Ysabet's notes:__ This chapter is freaking HUGE. I was going to chop it into two, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it—it would be like chopping my kid in half! Sorry there wasn't any peacocks, but they sort of got away—don't worry, they're still lurking around._**

_Next chapter: The heist, lots more Ayumi, lots more Aoko….. and a few surprises. Maybe those damned peacocks as well—who knows? This fic has taken on a life of its own, and I am not responsible for any upcoming weirdness. Really. It's NOT my fault—my early plotlines have all changed, and my original cast has mutated. What can a poor author do but tremble in fear and nod a lot?_

_Many, many thanks, by the way, to Becky, Icka, Hauntress, Magik and Loqui for beta-reading this monster!_


	6. Cause and Effect

_Chapter 6: __Cause and Effect_

It's the waiting that's the hardest, really.

Think of things from a cop's perspective—no, not from the viewpoint of anybody as elevated or important as an Inspector or anything like that; no, consider how things look when you're a lowly rookie fresh on your very first Kaitou Kid watch.

All the other cops have been telling you stories, priming you—and although you know that a lot of the stuff you've heard is total bullshit (nobody can walk through walls or turn to smoke; he doesn't have fangs and glowing eyes; and if they think you believe that pile of crap about him flying off on a _broom_ that one time they need their heads examined), you're beginning to worry as the minutes tick by…..

….. and the sun begins to set, and the scheduled time gets closer and closer (what the hell kind of nutcase TELLS you when he's coming to steal something?)…..

….. and the Inspector gets more and more antsy. You'd almost think the guy was waiting for a date, the way he gets to pacing and checking every clock or watch within sight. He's nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and it makes your hands sweat and your fists clench.

The exhibit's closed now, and it's just about time. One of the things the guys told you at the bar last night was that the Kid is _never_ late; he's always there when those stupid riddles say he'll be, laughing like a maniac. The _laughter_….. That's what they say unnerves you, makes you lose it and charge the bastard—anything to stop the laughter. Criminals aren't supposed to laugh—they're supposed to get caught in the act and then do their damndest to get away, NOT grin at you, grab what they came for and then disappear in a puff of smoke—

He can't _really_ do that, can he? And now the sweat is running down the back of your neck.

It's time.

And…..

….. suddenly the freaking lights go out ("Ahh, _SHIT!!"_ you hear the Inspector mutter) and _then you hear the_ _laughter__—_

From Nakamori's point of view, the whole evening started out bad and went downhill from there. He had once heard a visiting American investigator describe a total fiasco as a "goat-rope" (apparently derived from the attempt to drag more than one goat to market, all tied to the same length of rope and heading every possible direction at one and the same time); for some reason the expression had stuck in his mind as a valid description for that moment when you realize that absolutely _everything_ is going up the tubes…..

Sure enough, this was a goat-rope.

To begin with, everybody's nerves had been on edge; they all knew that the Phantom Thief would be there on time—but the problem was this: he might be the man beside you. Or the noise behind you. Or that guy you had just talked with ten minutes before. Or he might be hiding six inches away, right there yet somehow unseen…..

_DAMN_ him!! _If he was a regular criminal he'd be locked in a cell by now-- Hell, the big question here is whether or not he ought to be jailed or packed off to a rubber room! What kind of whacko wears a white tux and a cape to steal in? It_ was an old line of conjecture, one that Nakamori had used to entertain himself with for years. Why DID Kid wear a white tux? Sometimes he wondered privately if, the first time the bastard had stolen anything, all his black gear had been at the cleaners.

Whatever. So there they were, jittery and tired of waiting. The transfer-out rate of the Kaitou Kid Taskforce tended to be VERY high—only Nakamori's nerves could stand the stress more than three or four times.

Six-twenty-eight p.m. The sun was setting, and the shadows had already crept past the skylight overhead. The Inspector scowled at the brilliant overhead lighting; the room was fully illuminated_—__Why__ the hell does it feel like it's getting—_

_**BANG!!! He**_ yelped; all around him people instinctively flinched and ducked their heads. There was a split-second of a pause, and then—

_** BANG!BANG!BANG-BANG!!BANG-BANG-BANG!!!**_

-- as the fluorescent lightbulbs overhead _**EXPLODED**_ into thousands upon thousands of splinters, raining in all directions amid the outcries of the policemen below.

_--__dark__ in here??_ Slipping on shards of glass, Nakamori snarled an animalistic snarl and switched on the flashlight he had stowed in one pocket. All across the room lights came on as his men gathered their wits and shook the glass from their hair. "Anyone hurt?" he called out sharply; he relaxed slightly at the shaky negative replies as he swung the beam of his flashlight upwards towards the clock behind the main display case—

Six-thirty p.m. exactly….. The hands of the clock seemed to pay homage to the glittering tiara in the case as the beams of multiple flashlights glared off every facet; they _bowed._

The dim afterglow of sunset filtering in through the skylights should've been some help; as men all around him cursed, yelped and slid in the unseen minefield of broken glass, he caught himself on the shoulder of the officer beside him (who seemed to be muttering a continual litany of "crapcrapcrap—") and glared wildly up at the ceiling…..

….. and the utter sheets of total _blackness_ where there should have been glass and evening sky…..

The _**laughter**_ came then, and the cool, amused and-above-all-_familiar_ voice above the crunch of glass and the angry, nervous clamor:

"_Good evening, gentlemen, Nakamori-san! So glad you could join me….."_ The Inspector wheeled about—

Kaitou Kid was standing behind him, balanced securely on top of the glass display case; below his feet, the Rose Tiara sparkled almost mockingly as pure white flashed in a multiplicity of tiny reflections, scattering miniature rainbows through the glare of flashlight-beams and shadows. The rainbows glittered across his white cloak, sparkling it with stars as he bowed; _"I appreciate your keeping such a close watch on my prize—we wouldn't want it falling into the wrong hands, now, would we?" _The Phantom Thief chuckled softly, the sound somehow carrying over the surrounding chaos.

"_**GET HIM!!!"**_ A large number of policemen charged more-or-less forward through the welter of glass in a less than successful version of the usual 'Dogpile-On-The-Bandit' routine; Nakamori hung back for a change, fumbling with something in his pocket as the white figure seemed to drop down and disappear…

… only to pop back up like a jack-in-the-box from behind the pillar. With a sweep of one white-clad arm he simultaneously knocked over the tall case on top of the scrambling heap of uniformed bodies and snatched something very _glittery_ out of mid-air as it tumbled towards the floor—

_-- the Rose Tiara._ With another laugh the thief vaulted over a body or two, nimbly evading the hands that clutched at him from the floor as he darted towards the left-hand wing where the rest of the jewels were. Alarms were now echoing throughout the building, adding to the general madhouse-effect of darkness, flashing lights, and broken glass; with a roar, Nakamori shoved his way forwards and drew back his arm.

"EAT THIS, you #$!!!" The small, oval object hurtled from his fist in a lovely trajectory straight towards the figure in white—

--- who simply yanked off his top hat, catching the projectile neatly and lobbing it back in an arc that any Jai Alai player would be proud of. The small object went flying through the air towards the Inspector, who cursed again and ducked as it impacted on a nearby pedestal, releasing a cloud of something horribly pungent that made the nearest unfortunate cops cough and choke, wiping furiously at their eyes.

The Phantom Thief paused for half a second, clapping his hat back onto his head. _"A red-pepper grenade? Tsk, tsk, TSK, Inspector; how unsportsmanlike of you. But if you're going to start bringing out your toys—" and_ several round, silvery spheres suddenly seemed to materialize in his hands _"—I suppose it's only fair for me to show you a few of __mine__, ne?" _

Nakamori winced internally as he caught his balance. _Uh oh…._ Beside him he heard the cop he had fallen against (the newest rookie, he noted absently) moan "We are _SO_ screwed."

Someone to the Inspector's left slid on the glass and went down; their flashlight went skittering across the floor in a spin that flashed _light-dark-light-dark-light-dark_ across the room in a surreal strobelight effect—

_flash:_ A white-gloved hand sent the silver spheres dancing across the tops of the glass cases.

_flash:_ Tiny explosions went off, **blam!-blamblam!!-blam!** where they impacted _(More #$! glass—SHITshitshit!!!_ thought Nakamori). Display cases all over the darkened room shed their transparent shells like so many hatching eggs, the fragments seeming to move in jerky stop-motion...

_flash:_ And through it all, the white figure spun and whirled, laughing and laughing and goddamn _laughing—_ he moved like a cat on rollerskates, dodging the hands that reached for him as he dove into the maelstrom of shattering and falling glass without fear. He seemed to move through the glittering, flashing darkness without apparent effort, his cloak swirling and obscuring exactly what he was doing—

With a yowl like a scalded cat, Nakamori leaped after him in a sort of sliding run. He knew he had cut his hands at some point (and a tiny portion of his brain wondered just why Kid was doing so _much_ property damage this time) though the pain had yet to register—they were slippery where he grabbed at a pedestal for balance—but as shards crunched and shifted dangerously underfoot he lunged between two cascades of glass and grabbed at a flutter of white, yanking _hard—_

He might as well have grasped at smoke. The tantalizing flicker of the thief's cloak slid out of his grasp like so much vapor, and as the spinning flashlight came to a halt he realized that his quarry was more than ten feet away and moving rapidly towards—

_Goddammit, I was RIGHT! RRRRGH!!! --_towards the only item in the room with a peculiar history of rumored magical powers and mysterious origins: a green pendent of some sort; his pet researcher had dug up the dirt on it the night before. _I knew it, I __KNEW__ it!! and now I'VE GOT THE BASTARD!!!_

Nakamori was no idiot; there had been times enough in the past when a hunch had played through beautifully, when that little itch deep inside had been the hammer that nailed a perp… so he hadn't ignored his suspicions THIS time either. As the Phantom Thief reached out to pluck his prize from the gleaming, dangerous pile of glass shards, a sudden alien sound burst forth against the alarms' clamor:

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSS**__…….._ Near-invisible in the broken light, a gaseous cloud spewed forth from beneath the velvet where the jewel had lain; Kid yelped slightly, jerking back and clapping one hand over his nose and mouth. Advancing (but not too quickly), the Inspector laughed triumphantly even as he scrambled for footing on the slippery floor. "What's wrong? Where're all those smart-ass remarks? Got a little _problem,_ huh?—WHAT?!?"

The Phantom Thief was standing upright in the swirling gas, unaffected. And even from where he stood, Nakamori could feel his eyes begin to water and his skin burn…..

"_Diluted tear gas? You really ARE getting playful, aren't you, Nakamori-san?"_ Through the stinging haze he could see that the thief had pulled his cloak up across his face; he seemed to be having no trouble with the gas, and soft laughter rang through the cloudy darkness. _"You don't really think I'd use so many gas-grenades myself without having a defense close at hand, do you? Try again…"_ He fanned the mist away; the green pendent disappeared somewhere within the shadows and swirl of whiteness as Kid dodged a flailing cop—the rest of the Task Force had caught up with them and were piling into the room with many curses over the maze of broken glass.

A gleam of white teeth crossed the shadowy face below the monocle as the Phantom Thief took in the oncoming crowd of Tokyo's Finest, all swearing, slipping and yelping as the occasional shard took exception to their presence. He turned back to the Inspector and bowed mockingly. _ "Allow me to congratulate you on your foresight; you're beginning to understand, aren't you?"_ As Nakamori growled and began to move menacingly forward he held up one white finger and shook his head warningly_. "Ah-ah-ahhh….. don't; you should know better by now that laying hands on me is NOT a good idea. And as for your new understanding… have you ever heard the old saying that 'a little knowledge is a dangerous thing?'"_

That made him pause; a sudden sharp memory of men falling around him in a fusillade of gunfire halted the Inspector in his tracks. The enraged man waved an arm at his advancing army and snarled out "What's THAT supposed to mean?"

The top-hatted figure before him shrugged, his cloak drifting around him as he slowly began to walk forward; barely ten feet separated them now, but he seemed unconcerned_. "Just that you had better be a little more careful now. One never knows just who may be watching….. and I'm not the only one chasing after mysterious gems." _ At Nakamori's start of astonishment Kid nodded, his monocle flashing; he took another step and then another_. "I see you understand—and neither of us wants a firefight like the last time, ne? You should be glad that I'm on the side of the angels….."_

The cool voice warmed with amusement during the last phrase, and the Inspector felt his jaw drop. Side of the angels?? "What the HELL are you talking abou—"

But Kaitou Kid was moving, taking off from his slow pace forward into a sudden charge (how the flying was he keeping from sliding all over the place like the rest of them?!?) towards the oncoming cops; with a _**"HUP!!!"**_ he did something intricate and acrobatic, seeming to spring sideways and ricochet off of a pedestal upwards. Suddenly the air was full of Phantom Thief as he vaulted up onto the shoulders of the nearest cop—

"_S'cuse me! Coming through! Lady with a baby!!! Schnell, macht platzen!! Gangway!!!"_

--and he was, basically, bouncing from shoulder ("AACK!!") to head ("OW!!") to pedestal (crunch!) to uniformed back ("DAMMIT!!"), trompling his way across and over the too-tightly packed crowd of policemen before they could do a thing. Cape streaming behind him, he was suddenly back in the central display room, scattering another handful of his damned silver spheres across the floor this time as he went—

**BAMMM!!! BAMM-BANG-BAMMBAMMBAMM!!! BANG!BANG!BANGBANGBANGBANG--**

Glass flew everywhere; it was total chaos, and there just wasn't enough light to see by— Nakamori swore as Kid's laughter seemed to make the shards around him dance. "Bastard—" The Inspector began to vent a stream of invective that scorched the air blue; from his perch atop the pedestal that had once housed the Rose Tiara, the Phantom Thief cocked his head to one side and listened with interest.

He shook his head again. _"Such language—and you've got me pegged all wrong, too; the side of the angels, remember?"_ He laughed. _"What's wrong, Inspector? Don't you believe in angels? No--? Then allow me….."_

…_.. to __enlighten__ you….."_

A white-gloved hand whipped out and up, throwing something small and shining at the skylight overhead—

_**LIGHT!!! Nakamori**_ and his Task Force yelped, shading their eyes as brilliance suddenly flared into life; their dark-accustomed eyes were blinded, and suddenly the air was full of the sound of even MORE breaking glass AND what seemed like _thousands of wings,_ flapping and flapping and flapping-- Hands clapped over his eyes, the Inspector felt feathers brush against him as something went by his head with a swoosh!; the room seemed to be full of _flight_ as well as light.

And _heat_, too….. you couldn't exactly ignore the heat. The blazing ball of fire that had smashed the skylight dropped to the floor with waves of fiery warmth emitting from it; with a ratcheting _click-click-click-SSSSSHHHHH!!!_ the overhead sprinklers suddenly popped into action, adding a heavy spray of cold water to the misery.

The Inspector cursed again_. As if we needed something else….._

"_Oyasumi, Nakamori-san! Keep away from the cigarettes!!!"_

Ah, SHIIIITTT!!! Through streaming, watering eyes the Inspector could dimly make out a white blur heading into the opposite room, dodging between two gray bulks that were undoubtedly some of the meteorites on display—

And something suddenly clicked; and he groaned. _'The wings of angels'—the Astronomy Exhibit in the building's right-hand wing— astronomy….. the heavens….. angels….. The Angel's Wing-- AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHGHH!!!!_

_I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!!!_

But it was too late. He saw one blurry white arm reach upwards, heard the distinctive **KPOW!!** of that goddamn card-gun and a sudden, noisy sound of even MORE breaking glass as the blacked-out skylight overhead gave way. Kid was well to one side, balancing on top of another rock or something (he seemed to have a talent for not being where the glass landed); as the dim late-sunset light suddenly filled the room, something—a rope? a rope ladder?—dropped down with the glass, and Kid was moving, up and….

….and _gone,_ a clean getaway out onto the roof. Nakamori was practically frothing at the mouth by now; pushing his way through the last clump of soggy, struggling policemen, he half-ran-half-fell past cases of rocks and models of the Solar System towards the rear exit. _#$#$!!, I AM __**NOT**__ LETTING HIM GET AWAY THIS TIME---_ Dimly aware that his men were beginning to make their way into the room behind him, the Inspector grabbed the knob, yanked and staggered out into the courtyard between the two wings of the building—

And _**THAT**_ was the moment that all Hell TRULY broke loose.

z z z z z

_Got it, __got__ it, GOOOOOOT it!! Kaitou_ Kid crowed internally as he pulled himself up onto the roof amid a cloud of escaping doves; he tugged his hat down a little tighter onto his head and slid the control that would activate his hanglider from his sleeve into his palm. Below him he could hear Nakamori-san's steady stream of invective dopple past as the angry man charged towards the back door. _Too slow as usual, so sorry! But you're getting smarter, aren't you? He_ spared half a second to mime a salute in his opponent's general direction, then turned to peer over the edge of the roof.

A gust of wind caught his hat as he leaned over a bit to see a dozen or so policemen milling confusedly below in the courtyard; he glanced up at the cloudy sky, nodding in approval—for once there were no helicopters. _They must've expected me to leave on foot; this building doesn't look high enough for a good takeoff, does it? Pity they didn't consider the updraft from the fans at the Engineering Plant only a couple hundred meters away--_ He had watched the local birds making use of the mammoth currents of warm air the last time he had been on campus; they were easily strong enough to lift his glider way, way up above gunshot-range. And speaking of which… Where was the trouble he had been expecting? No snipers, no black-clad personnel in the bushes, no mysterious figures with night-vision goggles—

Kid sighed; all that extra property damage he had caused, and it hadn't even been necessary! He had figured that making it difficult to move around would keep the majority of the cops inside the building and safe from extraneous gunfire, if the shit hit the fan again; but it looked like he'd been paranoid—nobody was moving around down below but cops, cops and more cops.

_Sure hope nobody got cut too badly—at least that first little 'bang!' of mine made 'em all duck so the splinters from the lights didn't land in their faces._ The sound of a door opening below heralded the Inspector's arrival into the courtyard; Kid grinned, shook his head, and reached for his hanglider control. _Have a nice evening, Nakamori-san; we'll have to do this again sometime soo—__WHATtheHell_

_One of the cops below him had just drawn his gun and was drawing a bead on the Inspector._

Most Japanese cops didn't even carry guns—just detectives and higher. WHAT was------- _**Oh, SHIT!**_ Before he even realized what he was doing, Kid found himself pulling the trigger on his own card-gun; the scream below him carried quite well as the gunman found himself with a reinforced Nine of Clubs embedded in the back of his hand. Nakamori had frozen where he stood, and now MORE uniformed figures were pulling out guns and turning towards him—

And the door clicked shut behind him, swinging into place with a sound that said _'I'm locked'._ Or, possibly, _'You're doomed'._

It was a story-and-a-half drop from the roof; Kaitou Kid made it easily, landing hard on the shoulders of the nearest gunman as the first shots were fired. Nakamori was already diving for a nearby piece of statuary for cover; the courtyard was only dimly lit, and as the Phantom Thief punched the struggling figure beneath him hard in the gut he could see several of the cops beginning to attack the shooters—

_Good,_ he thought distantly as he avoided a swing; _they're not all assassins—there must've been a few real cops out here too._ He yanked a fistful of his cape out of his opponent's fists, then sent a hard elbow straight into the man's nose; it shattered with an audible crunch, and the man went down with a gurgling cry.

_Just as well—hand-to-hand combat's not exactly one of my strong points. Now WHERE's—Awp!! Several_ shots pinged off the wall behind him; Kid yelped, diving for cover behind a chunk of something large and solid.

If the scene inside the museum had been bad, this was worse; all over the courtyard he could see the flash of gunfire, could hear cursing and outcries and the fumbling thuds of bodies as they struggled with one another. Several figures lay on the ground, and there was no way to tell who was who. It was a madhouse, and the stink of cordite was everywhere, carried by the rising wind.

_Dammit—this was between Them and me—Why can't they just chase me and leave everybody else OUT of this?!? The_ thief groaned to himself, sinking down more securely behind the piece of Modern Art that was currently keeping him from getting his head blown off. Gloved fingers ran lightly across his pockets and the other concealed compartments on his person as he considered what to do next—

--only to hear a horrifyingly familiar _click-CLICK_ sound right beside his head. "Don't even THINK of moving," hissed Inspector Nakamori Ginzo from the other side of his gun.

_OoooooShiiiit__….._

They had both, apparently, chosen the same refuge, like a rabbit and a weasel both diving for the same bolt-hole under the attack of a hawk. The Inspector's furious eyes stared past the barrel of his firearm into the Phantom Thief's shadowy face; they were so close that Kid could see his own monocled reflection in the man's pupils.

His white-clad fingers closed beneath his cloak on what felt like a regular, non-heat-emitting flash-grenade… and he hesitated. If he set it off, he'd get away—but Nakamori would be blinded, easy prey for the unknown assassins who were still firing across the courtyard.

_Can't do that; can't let Aoko's dad get offed, no way, no how. Gotta think of something else--_

'Something Else' presented itself in the next second as a volley of shots ricocheted off the marble just above their heads, making them both duck as stone chips showered everywhere. "#&!!" snarled the Inspector; _"Goddammit!"_ hissed the thief. Both dropped belly-down, lying nearly nose-to-nose on the grass behind the statue.

_Wonderful. Just freaking WONDERFUL. Bullets flying, enemies all over the place, and I'm stuck back here with somebody who wants nothing more in the whole world than to get me into handcuffs. WHY me? Aren't I a good little thief? He_ rolled his eyes, wincing as another shower of marble-chips rattled down around them. _Oh joy; and now I've got to get the Inspector to see reason before we BOTH get our heads blown off—_

_actually...in fact._

_that cool voice sounding almost...her than amusement or anger;e again._

_ot they were friend or foe in the da_

z z z z z

It was very dark behind the chunk of statuary where the two targets had taken refuge. Nakamori fumbled with his gun and tried to line it back up with his quarry, who rolled his eyes and snapped _out "Will you STOP that? We've got a __hell__ of a lot more important things to think about right now than whether or not you catch me or I get away!!"_ The Inspector ignored him; Kid muttered something uncomplimentary beneath his breath and reached across to thump the man right between his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. _"__Hello__! Are you READING me, Nakamori-san? There are bullets flying, cops are getting hurt—and you're STILL trying to catch me?? Look around, you idiot!!"_

The outraged man tried to swat at him, swearing vociferously, but the thief caught his fist in a tight, white-gloved grasp_. "Pay attention, Inspector! We're in trouble, or haven't you noticed? Your men are going down!!!"_

THAT finally caught his attention. Breathing hard, the Inspector pulled himself up a little to peer past the base of the statue. Several meters away, a number of officers from the Task Force were staging a holding action at the museum door (they had finally gotten it back open again), but he could see at least one figure on the ground at their feet. Across the clearing several more bodies lay prone, and it was impossible to tell whether or not they were friend or foe in the darkness. Another pair of shots echoed off the marble, causing the man to drop back to his face again.

"_Satisfied? Good. Now why don't we both try to get out of this ALIVE before we resume our usual chase??"_

The Phantom Thief's sardonic words made Nakamori snarl, but the Inspector nodded angrily. "FINE," he bit out, the words coming hard. "So, got any bright ideas how to stop your friends? They're after you, aren't they?" He checked his pockets for ammo clips, wondering if he had enough; bullets weren't usually necessary equipment on a Kid watch… _At least the sonofabitch doesn't usually try to damage anybody—he could if he wanted to, that damned cardgun of his'd be enough, but…_ As he palmed a full clip the Inspector jerked his chin towards the figures in the courtyard, who had apparently grouped together behind some sort of statuary display; the occasional fireflash and report showed that they hadn't given up yet. "Well, aren't they?"

The shadowy figure nodded grimly, his monocle flashing_. "Correct—except now they want you dead as well, Nakamori-san. I believe the phrase from the gangster movies is 'You know too much,' ne? I'm not sure what you've done to draw their interest, but—"_

The Inspector jerked his head sideways, scowling ferociously. "**I** do. Looks like I figured something out about your little heists that nobody's caught before. You're going after gems with weird backgrounds—they all have legends about 'em, they're supposed to heal you or make you immortal or crap like that—" A distant rumble of thunder punctuated his words; there was a storm coming.

The white figure went very still; Nakamori could practically hear him thinking. _"And you wrote that down some place, didn't you? And someone saw it…"_ The words were very soft, filled with some emotion other than his usual amusement or sarcasm; it was odd, hearing that cool voice sounding almost…

… almost shaken. _Regretful,_ actually…..

It was hard to tell in the dark and the noise—even harder when half of you STILL wanted nothing better than to handcuff the bastard _(He's so goddamn __close__, I could FINALLY….. rrrrrgh!!! Somebody up there HATES me!!!)_ and be done with it—but….. well. Never mind. _(Grow up, Ginzo—you got more important things to think about right now. Gotta take care of your men—you can catch Kid later.)_

"Yeah," he growled, fighting back the extreme irritation that having to actually speak civilly with Kid was causing. "I think they hacked my files—and if they did, then I'm on their hit list… right after YOU."

_And I'll be damned if I let ANYBODY take you out before __**I**__ do, thief. You're MY target!! Goddammit, I haven't worked and sweated and been laughed at all these years to see you dead on the ground--_ Nakamori left the words unsaid, but the sheer animosity glaring from his eyes spoke volumes enough that white teeth flashed in a reluctant smile in the shadowy face opposite his.

"_Let's just worry about getting out of this situation alive, shall we? We can both worry about the future later."_ The voice was calm and amused again, as precise and easy as ever and with all traces of shakiness gone.

Nakamori opened his mouth to argue, but a short burst of gunfire from the courtyard made him abruptly abandon his dreams of catching Kid for more immediate concerns, survival being first and foremost. He gave a short, annoyed grunt, then jerked one thumb over his shoulder towards the chaos beyond their refuge. "Rmph. Fine. They've got us pinned down but good—can't tell the bad guys from the good guys—we need a way _out _of here—" He eyed the dim figure with distaste, wincing as a shot buried itself in the wall above his head. "Any ideas?"

Carefully his erstwhile ally raised a cautious head, peering between two struts of carved marble; something went _**BDOW!!**_ at entirely too close a range, and he ducked with a yelp that was neither amused _nor_ calm. One white finger delicately traced the smoking hole that had just appeared in the top hat, and Nakamori felt his eyebrows rising in spite of himself at the muttered stream of curses that followed. _Hrmph; interesting turn of phrase he's got there—I'll have to remember a few of those for later._

The monocled face turned in his direction, and he tried for the umpteenth time to see the features beneath the tophat's brim; no good. It was just too damned dark and getting darker, too—the clouds overhead obscured any moonlight that might've helped otherwise. The thief seemed to be considering some plan of action, though; he hesitated, then shrugged fatalistically. Slowly the white-draped figure drew his legs in beneath him, showing remarkable flexibility; he twisted a little, gathering himself up in a very flat crouch (that hole in the crown of his hat was warning enough that visibility meant sudden death). _"Nakamori-san? Do you see those bushes to our left?"_

The Inspector turned his head awkwardly, trying to see over his own shoulder at a difficult angle. The bushes were thick and dark and apparently uninhabited—he couldn't see any attackers or allies in them; what was the problem? "Yeah, so?" He turned back—

_**WHAM!! Nakamori**_ Ginzo never saw the fist that knocked him cross-eyed, sprawling stunned on the dark ground…..

z z z z z

_DAMN, he's got a hard jaw!! Kid_ rubbed his abused knuckles against his other palm, eyeing the stunned figure before him. He had never actually had to hit Nakamori before—he supposed he should feel guilty about it, but at the moment he needed the man limp and cooperative.

He only had a few seconds…..

Careful fingers ran across the various grenades in a hidden pocket; _Let's see…. No, not that one, or that one…. One of those, yeah, and—nope; ah, there we are. And—why not? One of those too, AND those, AND those as well….. Let's give those damned killers out there a really GOOD magic show. Drawing_ a handful of objects out, he took a good hold on Nakamori's collar and considered his targets…

_Ladies and Gentlemen, assassins of all ages….. let's hear it for KAITOU KID'S MAGIC ACT EXTRAORDINAIRE!!! __**BANZAI**___

_flick-flick-flickflickflick The_ objects went flying in carefully-aimed trajectories—

_**BOOOOOOOOOMMM!!!flash!!!!!!!BIDOW-BAM!!!BamBAMBam!!!BIDOOOWWW!!!ShiiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIIIIIOOOWWWWM!!!**_

Lights, smoke, huge flashes as brilliant as the sun—the courtyard was suddenly full of a deafening, blinding, utterly sense-deadening display; brilliant fireworks and sonic screams vied with streaming clouds of pink smoke for attention, and everything was overwhelmed by an enormous _**BWAWHOOOOOOMMMM**___ that rattled teeth and sent staggering figures to the ground as confetti and water rained down…..

_Water?? Where's the water coming from--?? Ooops…….. wasn't there some sort of fountain in the middle? Urk—I think I sort of blew it up. Oh well, can't make an omelet without breaking eggs! Keeping_ his eyes firmly shut, he threw several more flash-grenades in a hard overhand volley for good measure, then yanked his partially-conscious burden across the ground towards the bushes. _Whoof—heavy! Lay off the donuts, guy--_

Nakamori was beginning to stir groggily; he hoped the man was listening. _ "In you go—and __STAY PUT__, Nakamori-san!! For your daughter's sake… please??" _He stuffed the man into the shrubbery without hesitation, then took off like a bat out of hell for the nearest opening beyond the building walls.

_Keep-your-head-DOWN, Keep-your-head-DOWN, Keep-your-head-DOWN---_ His thoughts kept time with his hasty steps, as shouts and random gunfire erupted behind him. Whipping around a corner, Kid dove for what looked to be an alcove beneath a staircase _(Nice and shadowy, just duck and pretend you're not here, Thief Boy)_; a quick reach into one pocket pulled out a thin, matt-black swath of plastic sheeting; scrunching his body into the smallest possible ball, he draped it across himself, edged back into a corner below the cement stairs—and hoped like hell that nothing was showing.

_I'm not here, I'm not here, I'm not here, I'm not here, I'm REALLY not here……_

Crunch, crunch, crunch--- those were footsteps, heading his way….. crunch, crunch, crunch, CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH--

_Oh jeeze. I'm __totally__ screwed._

Two figures were heading straight for him—he could see them through the tiniest gap between folds of blackness. _SHITshitshit—what've I got for a weapon, where's my cardgun-- Huh?!?_

The two uniformed officers were hunkering down into the shadows, pressing themselves as far back as they could into hiding-- they were actually UP AGAINST HIM and they weren't freaking _noticing….._ Kid held his breath; he could breath later, he was just fine turning blue, no problem at all…..

The cops kept very still; as thunder rumbled again overhead (louder this time), several other uniformed figures thudded past, yelling at each other or into radios and calling for backup and ambulances and—

--and if he didn't get out of there soon he really WOULD be totally screwed. Maybe he could bop one of his uninvited guests on the head and steal a uniform? But it didn't look like they were _real_ cops, or they wouldn't be hiding; that meant that they were—

"Now what?" hissed one of the crouching villains; behind him a slow, rather nasty grin was beginning to spread across the Phantom Thief's face.

"Now we get the hell out of here. Nothin' for us to do here anymore—we failed, and if we don't want to find our brains splattered all over the place we better make it back to base." The larger of the two had a raspy, odd accent, as if his throat had been damaged sometime in the past. Kid frowned; he was too big—the other one's uniform would fit him better. Slowly one hand crept towards a pocket containing a tiny little gadget he had just managed to get his hands on—he hadn't even tested it yet, but it worked on the same principles as that handy little dartgun-watch the Shrimp had—

"Shit… that Nakamori's got more lives than a cat." The thinner man spat, growling; Kid paused, suddenly alert. "You think he knows anything about the mole?" A faint lightning-flash in the distance made the two men jerk slightly; they pressed back further into their hiding place.

_Mole? Mole--?? Uhhhh…. oh yeah—a 'mole' is a secret operative, somebody you plant in a person's environment to catch them offguard………. Oh. __**OH man**_

All thoughts of a prospective clothing change vanished; he held VERY still, listening hard.

"Hell no—if they were clumsy, the bastard would've figured 'em out by now. They'll get the son of a bitch tomorrow when he comes in for work." The heavyset 'cop' wiped at something running down the side of his face. "Goddammit—shitheads nicked me with somethin', I dunno what—let's get going, okay?" Faint spattering noises were beginning beyond their hiding place as the first drops of rain fell; a chill wind swirled beneath the stairs, and the two men shivered.

"Yeah." The smaller of the two put a hand behind him on what probably felt like a plastic bag of something relatively firm, maybe garbage or some such; he shoved himself up and out, staggering a little as he gained his footing. His larger companion followed, still wiping at his face. In less than a moment they were gone.

Behind them, two widened eyes peered through a narrow slit of an opening.

_Well, shit. __NOW__ what do I do?!?_

z z z z z

There had been a fist… he was sure of that much… and then there had been stars and flashing lights and a lot of noise, and for some reason there had been _bushes….._

Nakamori spat a leaf from his mouth, vainly trying to drag himself from the clutches of what felt at first like some sort of horrible torture device; it eventually turned into a hedge as he dragged himself out on all fours. As consciousness and memory slowly came online, he began to feel a little strange… and through the red film that was covering his vision he wondered hazily: _could_ a person actually spontaneously combust from fury?

It looked like he was going to find out. The Inspector stumbled to his feet, one hand against his rapidly-swelling jaw. All around him uniformed bodies were pelting past, calling out orders and helping fallen comrades to their feet; he half-tripped over a groaning figure, slipped in a puddle of water (why the #$!! was it so WET, anyway?) and sat down heavily on the edge of a fountain with half its rim missing to take stock of the situation.

Ten minutes later he still sat on the edge of the fountain, the taste of defeat bitter as ashes in his mouth. Ambulances were on their way, backup was coming to help clean up the mess, and things were far less confused—but their quarry was gone, his target was gone, and the assassins had vanished. Once his men had seen their commander upright and walking (his brief disappearance had caused more panic than he would have supposed), they had rallied back in the courtyard to report the Kaitou Kid Taskforce's status—

_Seven wounded… two dead._

There was nothing in the world Nakamori Ginzo would like to do right then than pin the blame on a certain Phantom Thief—but he knew better. His men had bled and died as much because the unknown force of assassins were after HIM as they were after Kid.

If Kaitou Kid were to blame… then so was Nakamori; and that was the cold, bitter truth.

_Seven wounded… two dead._

He had lost men before; it was part of the risk, everybody knew that. You went to work expecting a normal day, but you were always aware as a cop that someday your badge might be returned to your husband or wife as a memento of the dead—that somewhere out there was a bullet with _your_ name written on it, just waiting for a personal meeting. Yeah, you knew—and if you had men serving under you, you also knew that they stood the same chances of falling in the line of duty that you did. But the knowledge never made it any easier at all, not the smallest iota. Knowing that you were a target too didn't make your hands feel any the less bloody.

_Bloody….. The_ Inspector absently smoothed the bedraggled handkerchief he had bound around the long cuts he had finally noticed on his palms. The blood staining the makeshift bandage was his, but it might as well be that of his men.

_Seven wounded… two dead._ He couldn't seem to let the idea go; as Nakamori stared down at the puddles of water around his shoes, he wondered how everything had gone so very wrong.

Rain was beginning to spatter down around him, hard to see in the erratic light. _GOD,_ he wanted a cigarette…..

It WOULD be nice and comforting to blame Kid, wouldn't it? But in the depths of his soul the Inspector knew that, no matter what peculiar drive made Kid steal and return his targets, it had nothing to do with either Nakamori's death or that of any other policeman. He had spent nearly twenty years wondering about the thief's motives, but he had long ago stopped worrying about his intentions—it was pretty damned clear that he was only interested in stealing.

So… who the hell _were_ the assassins? Why—

"Uh, Inspector? Sir? _Sir?"_ The shout made him look up; one of his men was pelting across the courtyard towards him, splashing through the thin sheets of water that still pooled here and there. "We've got a sighting—Kid was just seen scaling a wall two buildings West of here—"

Nakamori was up and moving before he even realized it. "WHERE?!?" He caught the young cop's shoulder in a crushing grip, never noticing either the man's wince or the thin trickle of blood that began to seep from beneath his own bandages. "WHERE?! We've got to—"

The man cut in hurriedly, his tired young face showing strain (Nakamori noted that it was the rookie again—good, they had a survivor there) as he wiped damp hair back from his forehead. "This way—" Calling to several of his men to fall in behind, the Inspector took off at a dead run behind the younger officer.

_You're not getting away THIS time, not again—you owe me some answers you sonnovabitch, and I'm gonna collect if I have to drag them out of you with my own two hands—_

z z z z z

_Almost—there— With_ a final stretch and a bunching of muscles, the Phantom Thief heaved his bruised and aching self over the edge of the roof. Panting, he sank down onto the tiles and attempted to catch his breath; the long evening was finally taking its toll. _Man, whoever did the stucco-work on this building ripped off the college but good—the damned stuff was crumbling every place I touched! Stupid shoddy workmanship… it didn't help that it's beginning to rain, either. He_ groaned as excited voices came from below, several of them. _Crap, I thought they'd probably see me—I was pretty exposed here. Oh well, at least the assassins have hightailed it by now and there're no 'copters yet; all I need to do is angle over to the Electrical Plant updrafts and I'm away scot-free._

He spared a dark glance for the cops milling on the ground, wondering how many more were lying in pools of blood back in the courtyard…..

_Stop it. You can't help them by freaking out, and you did your best to warn Nakamori there'd be trouble—Hell, you did what you could to keep everybody inside! If you hadn't made such an unholy mess with all that glass, they'd've ALL been pouring out that door after you, right into a hail of bullets._

He would think about it later; he would have to. Now, he had to get _away._

A gloved hand tapped the button that brought the hanglider into action… and he was off, running lightly across the rooftop as the struts sprang into place. One step up—a leap out, a quick gut-wrenching, exhilarating fall through space—and the cool, sweet air of evening was carrying him off and away from the stink of cordite and the angry cries behind him, straight towards the massive updrafts that would send him Home Sweet Home—

z z z z z

_Several stories below, a lone figure crouched in the wet bushes and raised something long and deadly to his shoulder. He aimed—_

_There was a __**sound**__—several of them, dull and distant like the thuds you got when you dropped books onto a wooden floor._

_High above the white figure convulsed in mid-air, trying to clutch simultaneously at his left side and shoulder; dark blotches bloomed against white fabric as the hanglider bearing him wavered, tilted, began to nosedive—_

_-- and then suddenly took off hard and fast like a paper airplane in a strong wind as it hit the Engineering Plant's hot-air currents, arcing up and up and UP--_

_The lone figure watched until the hanglider had disappeared into the night, cursing under his breath; then he limped away into the darkness and cold, light rain, just one more shadow among shadows._

"Merow?? Meeeeerow ROW yow??"

"_Yowwwl!!_ Meeow??"

"……... Mrmph."

She wasn't responding.

The small white kitten gave his Person an annoyed stare from cool, rather frosty blue eyes; didn't she know that she was supposed to answer his demands IMMEDIATELY? He needed a lap, and he needed it Right Now. A cat had his standards, after all. But no, there she lay like a lump on the couch, open book still in hand as she had been holding it when she fell asleep. Tsk; how very lax…..

Humans these days; his mom had _warned_ him, but no, he had decided to be a Housecat—

His dinner-dish lay licked clean on the kitchen floor, and his Person's own plate was now sitting in the sink; across the room the interesting thing humans called a 'television' talked quietly to itself, flickering from one bright picture to another. When the girl had fallen asleep on the couch he had at LEAST expected that she would leave room for the Housecat In Residence (himself) to repose, but the silly human seemed to think that she was entitled to the entire piece of furniture. Most inconsiderate.

Still… she _WAS_ rather new at her job; Spot supposed that a bit of prompting now and then was appropriate. He recalled his mother telling him quite pointedly that one's Person had to be trained with the utmost diligence in order to produce quick responses to one's commands—humans were fairly intelligent, but to enforce good habits a little reinforcement was occasionally necessary.

A grumble of thunder barked its way across the darkened sky outside the window; irritated, Spot glanced over one fluffy white shoulder. The air was growing a little chill, the rain was coming down in torrents now, and he needed a LAP.

Mrmph.

Carefully the feline made his way along the back of the couch, white paws soundless and delicate. He stopped to consider his options, tail curled with the tip resting on his toes. Hmmmm… if he walked on her face, she should wake up. Or maybe he should settle himself on her chest and start kneading? THAT usually did the trick—there was nothing like the application of four of a cat's five pointy ends to bring one's Person out of a sound sleep.

Unwinding from his pose, the kitten streeeeeetched once, paws extended and back arched; he started to step down—and paused; his Person was making odd noises in her sleep…..

Oh; she was dreaming. So humans did that too? How weird. Spot cocked his head to one side, peering interestedly down; it was rather cute, the way her hands and feet were twitching… maybe she was dreaming she was chasing somebody… No, the noises were beginning to sound a little distressed; she must be having a nightmare.

"_--Kaito--? Noooo….."_ Poor thing; bad dreams could be terrible. He hated the ones about _dogs_ the most…..

The cat's ears flicked back, then forward as he considered his Person's discomfort. If she was upset, she wouldn't be still, and if she wouldn't be still, he couldn't curl up on her comfortably. Something Needed To Be Done.

Spot hesitated….. What would be appropriate in this situation? Face-walking seemed a rather crude solution, and sitting on her head would probably only exacerbate the problem. Perhaps he should bring her his catnip mousey? A bit extreme, quite a grandiose and generous gesture on his part, but it might just work.

A couple of quick leaps, a momentary pause for a quick resettling of his tail-fur, and the kitten carefully stepped down from the back of the couch onto his Person's stomach, dropping the mousey directly onto her chest. She was still twitching and murmuring, but one hand crept up to clutch at the toy as she shifted slightly under his miniscule weight; Spot blinked as the girl's other hand slid down from beneath her head, and he suddenly found himself being hugged close.

The feline squirmed slightly, his tiny claws beginning to unsheathe; how _undignified,_ being held like a—a catnip mousey!

But…..

She was calming now, and it wasn't _too_ uncomfortable, snuggled against his Person like this… Her fingers were smoothing his fur automatically, and she was nice and warm…..

….. warm…..

………_..purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr……….._

Spot shivered once, then relaxed; his claws resheathed as his Person's nightmare-induced whimpers dwindled into silence.

Blue eyes slid closed; cat and human slept as the minutes ticked by into hours. For the most part, they both lay still, their mutual warmth comforting each other; but every now and then the girl would twitch slightly, as bad dreams did their best to intrude.

Outside the rain beat on the windows, running down the glass panes like tears.

**PAIN**

The whole _universe_ was nothing but **pain**—pain and dark and cold and…..

…_.. falling?_

No, not falling—he had fallen, but now he was not-falling, not-moving, cold and he _HURT_ and he _HURT _and oh, he _**HURT**__—_

He had no idea where he was, no idea at _all._ The last thing he recalled was….. a sound? Sounds? Dull, thudding noises, sort of _thwup-thwup!_ things? And—oh yeah, somebody was hitting him and it HURT---

He tried to reach for the hurt, shifting slightly in what he was beginning to recognize as cold wetness (dim memories of water falling from overhead—an exploding fountain? a sprinkler system?—flickered and were gone)…..

**PAIN**

_**Oh God, that **__**hurts**___

For a long moment he teetered, poised on a fulcrum that would tip either back into black unconsciousness or forward into nerve-screaming awareness----- Then, as the surge of agony receded a little he managed to keep his grip on the moment, though only barely. Memory began to seep in…..

_….. the heist….. All that shooting, and I—oh yeah, I threw Nakamori into a bush-- Uhhhhh….. I was—on a roof, and I took off, and….. those sounds….. oh damn. Gunshots. They GOT me._

_How bad? And_ where in hell _was_ he, anyway?? Had Nakamori—

No. No, he wasn't in prison, and he wasn't dead—he didn't think you would hurt this much if you were dead. He sincerely hoped so, anyway. _Okay, think think think, Kaito. Make the brain work. What can you tell, besides the facts that you're alive and you hurt?_

Cold…. wet….. dark. And now that he was able to think (if very, very foggily), he could tell that he was curled up into a ball on something very rough, puddled with the rain that was falling insistently down on him. He shifted slightly, unable to stifle the moan of agony that his movement caused….. a rooftop? It was so goddamn _dark—_

No, not totally dark. There was something flickering on the edge of his vision, something bright, something red and brilliant blue—familiar?

_… I know those colors, I know them __together__ in that flickering pattern--- it's something I see when I fly-- landmark, sort of, but up high….. Dammit; can't THINK. WHY can't I think? Feel so… weak, like I'm sick… and I hurt so much I can't even tell where it's coming from, it feels like its everywhere--_

_No, no, no panic. THINK. Red-blue-red-blue flicker-- neon!! That's it! It's a neon sign, on the—uhhhh, the Ichiban Hotel! The one downtown, just past the Shiba Bridge! But it's awfully far down….. I'm—up high, somewhere. Somewhere cold. REALLY cold, and really, really windy….._

Slowly, slowly he began to take stock of what hurt and what did not. His right side—it felt bruised and scraped, but it wasn't too bad; it was his _left_ one that hardly bore touching, that screamed at him every time his right hand tried to explore the damage. In the dark and the rain it was hard to tell, but eventually he came to the conclusion that he had been shot at least twice, once in the upper left shoulder and once somewhere around his ribs on the same side. The lower of the two wounds seemed to be the lesser—it was difficult to be sure, but he thought the bullet had either bounced off or maybe just skimmed the surface. His shoulder, though…..

_That_ little bit of exploration sent him back into blackness for an unknown time, as his fingers brushed against both the entrance and exit wounds bracketing the outer arch of his shoulder. The red lights exploding behind his clenched eyes and the wet warmth on his fingers was enough to make him moan again and curl up a little tighter into himself.

Very, very gradually his mind began to work again, and awareness of his situation edged over from the misery of his wounds to an urgent need to know where he was and if he needed to move. Whether or not that was _possible,_ well—that was secondary at the moment.

Okay. He was on a rooftop, somewhere near the Shiba Bridge-- That profile over there, that was the Fujima Showcase building, and that was the Tokyo Tower not too far off in the distance. The rooftop underneath him was a graveled one, and there were only a few this high in the area (he had to be up at least twenty stories or more—HOW the hell had he gotten that high with two bleeding gunshots and apparently a total lack of consciousness?!?)….. _Got it. I'm on top of that office building at the corner of Minato and Rinkou -- I think._

_HOW did I get up here?!?_

_……………………even for me, this should've been impossible…………………….._

_Never mind__, you idiot. You're __here__—guess it's really true, the gods DO look after drunkards and fools. I qualify as the latter, no doubt about it. He_ shifted painfully, trying to ignore the fact that he was shivering in the onslaught of rain. _DAMN, this hurts!! Can't think straight-- gotta get someplace safe, someplace I can get some medical attention without ending up in jail-- Can't go to a hospital, they report all gunshot wounds to the police, doubt they'd believe me if I said I was cleaning my gun and it went off. Besides, I'm too young to own one, anyway. Jii's still in Okinawa checking up on that ruby necklace, Mom won't be back from Aunt Makoto's 'til Wednesday--_

_I wonder how much blood I've lost? Must be why I feel so fuzzy-headed….. There_ had to be _someplace_ around here he could go—he was too goddamned far from home to make it there, it was clear. He needed help.

Help. _Yeah, right. Good joke, that one. Who_ could _HE_ turn to for help?!? The only people who knew about him were Jii—and the Shrimp. And he'd die on the rooftop in the rain before he gave himself up to Kudo, because that road only led to discovery and the slamming of a prison cell door. Kudo played by the rules, and—

--and he needed someone who either didn't _care_ about the rules, or….. or…… dammit, he couldn't think. He REALLY needed help.

Blearily he turned his head; even in the rain-wet darkness he could see the spreading blotch that blackened most of the left half of his torso and all of his arm; if he didn't find help soon, he was going to bleed to death right there.

_Logistics, then. Gotta go to wherever I can, whoever I can, whoever's nearest. Akako—no, too far away, though she might not tell. Hakuba's worse than Kudo. Aoko… no. Oh God….. what'll happen tomorrow, when I don't show up for school? Wonder if Nakamori saw me get shot?_

_Aoko….. wish you were here. Glad you're not—you don't need to be mixed up with this, don't need to choose between me and your dad. No….._

_This hurts so much. Never thought being shot would hurt so much. Never had an injury this bad before. Half of me just wants to curl up and make it all go away… but if I do that, __I'll__ go away with it._

_Think of something else. Why is this rooftop so—so familiar, anyway? Why do I kn—oh, right; I've landed here a time or two 'cause 'Yumi-chan's place is close by, I use her balcony as a landmark because it's nearly as high as this and it's only a couple of blocks away--_

_-----------only a couple of blocks away------------_

_………. I __can't__. I can't do that. Can't involve her, she's an innocent little girl and she doesn't deserve this. Not 'Yumi-chan….. though….. NO. I'd __rather__ die on this roof than screw up her life like that, she doesn't have anything to do with thieves or murdered fathers or goddamn guys in black-- Don't be a selfish bastard, Kaito; you have no right to even THINK about doing something like this to her. You'd be better off trying to find a phone and calling Kudo—or Aoko--_

_Oh __**GOD.**__ Aoko. __Aoko's dad__. Those guys I overheard—whattimeisit? Ah, shit, what TIME is it?? They're gonna be waiting for him, they've got somebody in his office and they'll KILL him as soon as he comes in for work--_

Panic ran around and around inside his brain like a rat in a cage, frantic and biting itself in its hurry; he moaned involuntarily as his shivers increased, and he fought to bring himself up to his knees. Clutching at his useless arm, the wounded thief swayed dizzily and nearly fell over again. _I've got to get down from here, I've got to find a phone, if I call Aoko she'll believe me, I've got to reach her or her dad or--_

_Cellphone, right—where did I stash it….._ Fumbling, numbed fingers searched frantically until a tag-end of memory sent them gingerly towards the jacket pocket just above the wound on his left. _Please, don't let it have been hit— In_ his hurry he pulled the pocket inside-out….. only to have his hopes shattered into pieces, just like the broken fragments of the cell-phone that tumbled onto the puddled roof. _It must've been right where the bullet hit—might've even been what made it skid sideways—_

_What'll I do now? Gotta get DOWN from here, find a phone that works— Grimly_ the young thief began the painful struggle to stand.

Fifteen agonizing minutes later found him leaning very shakily on a small roof-entrance, shielded from the downpour by the overhang. But the door hadn't apparently been opened in months, and even the best lockpick on the planet couldn't pick a lock with one only one working hand and fingers too cold and numb to hold a pick straight. He had used the last of his concussion grenades—there was no way in, and the only other way off the rooftop was straight down.

Or—if he could manage to stay conscious—straight _out, borne_ on the wings of his glider. There were two holes in the fabric (courtesy of the bullets), but if it had carried him this far—

The question was, of course, _WHERE_ was he to go?

Terror and desperation had lent him a second wind, a momentary burst of strength; but already Kaito could feel it fading back into the weakness of blood-loss and too much pain. He had to think of something FAST, before he ran completely out of steam; if he died, so did Nakamori.

And those bastards in black would win _again_ just like they had with his father.

He leaned against the cold brick wall, feeling his knees tremble, feeling the rain stealing the warmth from his flesh like the thief it was-- _I… can't do that, not to Aoko--- she lost her mom when she was so small, to lose her dad like this….. and I wouldn't even be around to help. GodDAMN it, Kaito, that's even more selfish than calling Ayumi—_

_-------__no__-------_

_-------'Yumi-chan-------_

He had run out of choices.

_--forgive me. I'm sorry, imotochan; I don't know what else I can do. If it was just me, maybe I'd just let myself die here on this rooftop like the idiot I am….. but I don't have that right. Can't let Nakamori and Aoko pay for my mistakes._

Fumbling, he pulled out a number of handkerchiefs from one pocket, all knotted together; as the rain began to slacken a little he gritted his teeth, fought back a wave of dizziness and began to bind his useless arm to his body in preparation for flight.

_tap-tap-tap_

"Um, Shinichi?"

Hesitantly the little girl that had once been Mouri Ran poked her head around the corner into the boy's bedroom; she frowned, a little worried. _He's not here either. He didn't go out—not in THIS downpour, did he? The_ rain was beating fitfully at the windows in gusts; thunder grumbled overhead, and she could hear the faint murmur of her parent's voices as they sat together and planned a trip for the following week to the hot springs resort that she, Conan and her father had visited the previous year.

Eri had commented earlier that week that, since their first honeymoon had been rather brief (they had both been in college), they should have a _second_ one where they both had a better idea of what to do. She had smiled rather wryly at that and her husband had turned a rather spectacular shade of crimson (although he couldn't seem to stop grinning)…..

_I couldn't be happier for them; it's a second chance for their marriage, a second chance to do things __right__ this time. Funny….. they're sort of picking up where they left off, aren't they? I mean, they even have a little girl again….. The_ teenager-turned-child spared a smile of her own for that—and for the hot spring, too; her cheeks reddened as well as she recalled that little trip.

_Well, the NEXT time __we__ go I won't be dragging Shinichi in with me….. This time I'd be the one dying of embarrassment! She_ tiptoed past the living room, still on the hunt for the boy. _Let's see—he's not in his room, not on the computer, not watching TV, not snitching a snack from the 'fridge, not in the bathroom….. oh. He's brooding about that Kid riddle, isn't he? And I know where he'd go to brood in this weather….._

Slipping on her shoes, the little girl quietly opened the door to the outside stairs and snuck out. Sure enough, a small figure was huddled halfway down the steps, chin propped on his hands as he watched the rain pouring down a few meters away.

Without comment Rin joined him, shivering a little as she took her place on the step beside the boy; it was rather chilly out this late, and while the rain couldn't quite reach them the dampness in the air could. The stairs were dark—he hadn't bothered to turn on the overhead light, and the only illumination that reached them was cast by the rain-blurred streetlights beyond the entrance.

They both sat for a time, listening silently to the drumming of the rain.

Softly, as if afraid her words would disturb the weather, the girl spoke without looking at the boy beside her. "I was worried about you. Are you okay?"

Silence; then: "If I had known about the riddle before this—"

"—you would've figured it out and _been_ there, I know." They had both listened in quietly on the police radio up in Conan's room (a recent gift from Agasa-san that even Mouri didn't know about yet) to the aftermath of the raid a couple of hours past; the site was still being cleaned up and catalogued, the ambulances had come and gone….. and Kudo Shinichi had missed it all.

Rin understood. He had been understandably furious when he found out about the riddle (too late, far too late to do anything)—he had fumed and growled about it for nearly an hour, then gone silent with frustration and a deepening black depression. That last was always a bad sign; it led all too often to the kind of brooding that would put him into a horrible mood for days. When she had been Ran-neechan and he had been Conan-kun, this would occasionally happen (mostly when something reminded him of what he had lost—she had always put it down to homesickness, not understanding); when it had, Ran had nearly torn her hair out trying to find a distraction to bring her young charge out of the mopes—anything, short of strangling him. Conan was rather a pain when he was depressed.

Like now.

"What could you have done? What would you have done?" she asked him quietly, practically. "Maybe you could have caught him, maybe not—but from what he told you in the park he has some sort of reason behind what he's doing—it's not just pure theft, right?"

He stared out at the rain, eyes dark. "It's still a crime. What he does… they're still the acts of a criminal, even if he has some sort of justification behind it. It's just that—I'm beginning to wonder: what would _**I**_ do if I'd been the one to have my father killed? Maybe not the same thing, but-----"

Rin bit her lip, thinking hard. "If it had been me….." she said slowly-- "If it had been me, I don't know what I would've done—whatever felt right at the time, I guess." She shifted on the cold stairs, leaning a little against the small form beside her. "Maybe what he did was the only thing he could do….. or the only option he thought he had, anyway." She half-smiled, turning her head a little towards him. "It's a bit like when you pretended to be Conan, isn't it, Shinichi? You did what you thought you had to….."

"Mmph." Silence.

Outside in the dark, the rain's drumming shifted tempo as a gust of wind blew the drops aslant; it was interesting, Rin supposed—if you listened without considering what was causing the sound, the cars passing and the beating of water made a sort of music, a fugue of weather and traffic-noises. Soothing, really; maybe that was why Shinichi had picked the stairs for his brooding.

Or maybe not; most likely he had just sought out a place as dark and unprepossessing as his thoughts. Sometimes, she thought with an edge of exasperation, he really _could_ be a pain…..

Well, she supposed he had reason. But he was too hard to live with when he got like this, so….. Oh well. Of course, it was raining—but so what? She wouldn't melt….. He might get annoyed, but….. some things were worth a little annoyance.

Behind Rin's eyes, Mouri Ran smiled to herself. _Go for it, Ran-chan._

"Shinichi?" Suddenly she jumped to her feet, snatching up the boy's hand and tugging at it with a sharp, concerned look on her rounded features. "Come on— I just thought of something _important—"_

"Huh?!? What—" She was pulling him down the stairs—he barely made it to his feet, a puzzled look replacing the depressed blankness.

"Never _mind_-- I'll show you in a minute! _Come on!!_ Hurry—---" Already she was at the bottom of the stairs. Taking a deep breath, she charged out into the downpour and wind, towing the sputtering boy behind her. He yelped slightly as the cold water hit him, but her excitement and apparent worry was catching; as she turned and pelted down the wet, empty sidewalk, he splashed along behind her as fast as his short legs would carry him.

They ran down the wet, neon-lit sidewalks until they were out of breath, skidding around corners and splashing through puddles that rose above their ankles; by the time they had reached the tiny park three blocks from the Mouri residence, they could not have been wetter if they had just climbed from a river.

Fighting for air (and inhaling water half the time), the boy leaned against a tree-trunk and attempted to talk; his eyes were large with alarm. "Wh—(gasp) wha—(pant)—what's the (gasp) problem?? What—"

Rin shoved her soggy hair back from her face; tendrils straggled across her nose, were twined around her neck in dripping tentacular masses. Leaning over with her hands against her knees, she coughed for breath for a few moments, then plopped down onto a park bench with a wet _splat!_ "It—it's—" She paused, still breathing deeply.

"What?!?" The boy's brows were drawn together; he shoved his glasses back up onto his nose, then swore briefly and pulled them off (they were worse than useless in the rain).

"It's……….._nothing__."_ She beamed at him happily, water running down her cheeks and dripping from her chin.

"_**WHAT?!?"**_

"Uh huh. Nothing at all. You needed to stop brooding… so…." Rin ducked her head, staring at the puddled ground; she seemed absorbed in watching the raindrops splash down, but one corner of her mouth was curled up and a dimple was showing.

There was a long silence while the boy simply gawked at her in disbelief; only the sound of the rain coming down was audible, a muted waterfall of soft noise coming from everywhere around them. At last, shaking his head, Conan sat down on the bench with a wet _squelch._ "You did this… dragged me out here, got me soaking wet, made me worry… to _cheer me up?_ All this—" and he gestured wordlessly at the rain and the darkened park.

Rin shrugged, her mouth twitching suspiciously. "Well… I didn't arrange for the bad weather, but— you're horrible company when you sulk, worse than my dad….. When I was big, I used to take 'Conan-kun' to the park to make him feel better, right? And before that, we used to argue. So—"

"—I decided to do _both_ things this time."

He sputtered; beside him, Rin blinked rain-wet lashes and tried to look innocent. "Did it work?" she inquired, tucking a sodden clump of hair behind one ear.

Conan hesitated, still rather indignant; after a moment a slow grin began to spread reluctantly across his face. "Well….."

One eyebrow quirked up as she chuckled at him in satisfaction. "Hah! It did. I thought it would. When you get like that, you're your own worst enemy—so I gave you something else to think about." She shot him a sideways glance that held just a tinge of warning behind the amusement. "Besides…. Much more gloom-and-doom and I would've started practicing katas on you."

"Oh."

"_AND,"_ she continued blithely, "if I ended up beating you up, you wouldn't be in any condition to try and find out what happened tonight, would you? OR help to recover whatever he stole—you know Inspector Nakamori probably didn't manage to stop him….."

The boy blinked at her, water running down his face. "Uhhhh…. good point. But—Ran?"

"Hm?" She swung her feet, watching as the rain fell all around them; another shiver rippled through her and she wrapped her thin arms around her shoulders. "Brrrrr….. what?"

"Did we HAVE to get so wet? We could have grabbed an umbrella….."

The little girl giggled. "Ayumi's, maybe? I never knew you liked HelloKitty so much—"

He aimed a swat at her, which she ducked with ease. After a moment he snickered, shoving his rain-heavy hair back from his forehead. "I wish you could've seen how fast Kid moved when he realized it was me—"

The little girl's forehead wrinkled; "I thought you were looking away--?"

"I was, but I could hear him go up the tree. Never thought anybody could climb that fast….." He snickered again. "You suppose we should head back now? Your mom and dad may be wondering where we are….."

With a shrug the brown-haired child beside him slid off the bench, landing in the mud with a wet _splat!_ "I guess….. Shinichi? Do you really think Kid told you the truth—about Ayumi, I mean?"

He glanced up from where he was tying his shoe, the wet laces sliding limply from his small fingers. "Oddly enough, yeah. He was sort of dancing around telling me everything else, especially his motives….. but that? Yeah. I really think he was telling the truth. He doesn't want to involve her in any Kid business—matter of fact, he promised not to." The boy straightened; the brooding look was still there a little but it had lessened considerably. "I got the impression that Kid doesn't make promises lightly; it'd take a lot for him to break this one….." He scratched his wet hair, looking rather perplexed; "I'll be damned if I know why I'm trusting him… but I am, I guess. Maybe it's because he doesn't seem to like to lie? I mean, even his _riddles_ tell the truth if you look at them hard enough….."

"Good."

He eyed her a little sideways; Kudo Shinichi knew that look, the one where Ran's eyes flashed and her jaw was set. If Kid broke his word, he'd better damn well have an excellent reason for it—or he'd be finding out just why Mouri Ran had been the Karate champion for her school. And come to think of it, she had a bit of a bone to pick with him anyway, one that concerned a certain impersonation that was done of her during the Black Pearl incident….. "Ready?" Without a second thought he reached for her hand.

It was warm in his despite the cold of the continuing rain; kicking at puddles, they splashed out of the park onto the sidewalks towards home.

Rin glanced at him mischievously as she shivered again. "You know, I bet we look awfully cute, walking together hand in hand like this…. Two little kids, maybe brother and sister….."

Conan shot her a wry glance, feeling his ears burn slightly. "Trust me, Ra—uhh, Rin; if I ever start feeling 'brotherly' towards you, I'll move in with Agasa-san."

Her jaw dropped, and a sudden blush stole across the heart-shaped face_. "Shinichi!_ I—um, I mean….." Her cheeks shaded to scarlet, and she looked both gratified and embarrassed.

"Gotcha…" he teased her, his eyes lighting up with amusement. The last of the boy's sulkiness vanished in a sudden surge of warmth, strong and heady as the wine he wouldn't be allowed to drink for another decade. "Hey, Rin-kun? There's something I've been wondering about—"

She was still blushing; as the rain began to slacken a little, one eyebrow crept up. "W-what?"

Conan's smile broadened; she looked more like her old self than _ever_ when she was flustered. "Well….. when you were Ran, you were ticklish….. but how about now, as Rin?"

Her outraged squawk and abrupt halt was his answer. "You _are,_ huh? Really? Just _HOW_ ticklish are you?"

"Aack! Shinichi, _stop!!_ ……….SHINICHI!!----- AWWP!!!"

Laughing like idiots, dodging puddles and each other, their chase lasted all the way home.

_The auditorium filled with children and adults of all ages applauded wildly, cheering with all their might as Ayumi The Astounding triumphantly held up a card for all eyes to see. Her sequined dress glittered brilliantly under the stage lights, and in the front row her parents, Mitsuhiko, Genta, Mouri-tantei, Agasa-san and Ai all goggled at her with total astonishment. "As you can see, it's the ACE OF DIAMONDS!!!"_

"_Fantastic!" "How does she DO that??" "I can't believe my eyes!!" The cheering reached thunderous proportions._

_(From the third row Conan and Rin—AND two people who looked like Shinichi-niisan and Ran-neechan—waved, laughing. Conan began throwing popcorn at the back of Ai's head, and Rin elbowed him in the ribs disapprovingly; when this failed to have any result, she dropped a piece of ice down his neck from her soda. Curiously enough, both he and Shinichi-niisan jumped…)_

_Ayumi The Astounding ignored the ruckus in the audience, bowing gracefully (her teacher had taught her that magicians ALWAYS bowed, even the girl ones—they NEVER curtseyed). She removed the shiny black silk top hat that she had been wearing, smiling happily. "For my next trick I will pull a Hei-san from out of my hat….. Okay, everybody: Start thinking hard about Hei-sans….. Concentrate, please….."_

_(Conan and Shinichi-niisan blinked at each other, puzzled; identical delighted grins crept across their faces after a second and they fell onto each other's shoulders, howling with laughter. Rin heaved an exaggerated sigh of aggravation and dumped her popcorn over both of their heads as Ran-neechan cheered her on.)_

_The hat suddenly became rather heavy; looking puzzled, Ayumi The Astounding reached in. "There's something in here already? Ummmm….." Beneath her fingers were feathers, warm and fluffy—she jerked her hand back as an alarmingly large, beaky head rose from out of the hat with a piercing squawk! Dropping the hat onto the stage, Ayumi The Astounding backed away with as much dignity as possible. _

"_Eeep..… A-as you can see, Hei-san can't be here today; you must not have concentrated hard enough! So… instead… we've got, ummmm, peacocks, I think….."_

_The bird somehow managed to pull itself out, tail and all; it postured and preened, stealing the spotlight from the young magician as a second and then a third arrived, all emerging from the depths of the top hat. Their shrieks and wing-flapping began to fill the air, drowning out the alarmed murmurs and hesitant clapping from the audience. Ayumi The Astounding scowled; this was going ALL wrong! She ran forward, waving her wand:_

"_Shoo!! SHOO!!! Go __away__, peacocks!!!" _

_The three large birds took off in a rush of wind and feathers, screaming like sirens as they circled the auditorium; everybody ducked (even the popcorn-bedecked quartet in the third row, although they seemed to be near-hysterical with laughter by now) as the heavy wings beat over their heads—flap-FLAP-flap-FLAP-flap-FLAP----_

_She ducked as they dove back towards the stage, but they just kept coming: —flap-FLAP-flap-FLAP-flap-FLAP----_

……..and Ayumi awoke abruptly, sitting upright among her tumbled bedcovers with a tiny _"yeep!!"._

_THAT_ had been weird; Ayumi knuckled the sleep from her eyes and blinked around at her silent room, dark and shadowy save for the dim glow of the lights from her balcony door. The dream had been so… _real; _she could almost hear the peacocks shrieking, could nearly hear the flap of their wings…..

…_..flap….. FLAP-flap….. FLAPflap-FLAP……._

_That wasn't a dream_ There WAS something making a noise; Ayumi shut her eyes quickly and froze, fighting a sudden and terrified urge to fling her covers over head until it went away. Fleeting thoughts of the Monster In The Closet that she had fervently believed in several years before flashed through her mind before an eight-year-old's modicum of common sense batted them down.

_There's NO SUCH THING as monsters, there's NO SUCH THING as monsters….. The noise sounds like something on the balcony--_

_Oooooooo.…. There's NO SUCH THING as monsters….._

Ayumi really, really wished her mom hadn't gone out of town. Her daddy had been gone for a month now—his work sent him off to train people in new offices for weeks at a time, and right now she would have given almost ANYTHING to hear him coming through the front door with his suitcases and his _"Tadaima! Where's my little Ayumi-koneko?"_

It was raining; a muted growl of thunder, so low it was scarcely audible, rattled the glass in the sliding door; a shush of softly falling rain whispered to itself from the overhang, and some tiny voice in the back of Ayumi's scared young mind wondered if her roses were getting all nice and watered (was rainwater better for roses than regular water? She'd have to find out).

_That noise sounds like…. it doesn't sound like monster noises….. it sounds like, like cloth flapping. Did something blow onto my balcony? Or is it really wings? Maybe there's a big BIRD out there, an owl or something—maybe it's, maybe it's a BAT or, or—_

_I won't know if I stay here under the covers. Conan would laugh at me—no, he wouldn't laugh, but HE'D go and look and see what it was—and Rita-kun's in there asleep on the couch and if I yell she'll come running right away….. Maybe I could just peek around through the glass….._

Feeling very brave (and wishing strongly that was Somewhere Else Right Now), Ayumi slid silently down from beneath her covers onto the floor; sneaking across her room, she slowly peered around the edge of the doorjamb and through the glass of her balcony door---

…_.. FLAP-flap…..flap….. FLAP-flap……._

Something _WAS_ out there— something _white. It_ was crouched over by her rosebush, and it seemed to be waving at her—

Sheer terror overwhelmed the little girl's vision and intellect for a second or two as she drew in breath to cry out; then, as her eyes told her that the 'waving' was actually a piece of cloth blowing in the wind (hence the flapping sound), she choked off her scream and _stared….._

The whatever-it-was seemed to be… wearing a _top hat._

Monsters did not, in her experience, wear top hats. Therefore, this was not a monster. And…..also….. she _remembered_ somebody, once upon a time, who had worn a white top hat like that AND had been on her balcony too.

….. she remembered…..

_He had been standing on the railing, balancing so easily against the wind; Ayumi had been at least two-thirds asleep when she padded out onto the balcony in her pajamas, and the movie she had just seen had been figuring in her dreams. "Dracula-san?" she had asked the caped figure sleepily without even the slightest touch of fear; he had dropped lightly down, a little smile on his shadowy face as he told her No, he was just tired from flying so far….. It had made sense to her at the time in the way that dreams did; of course he was tired, anybody would get tired if they flew too far so late at night…._

_And then the police helicopter had arrived, and the blast of noise and light had driven away the last vestiges of dream-feeling. He had left (the lightest touch of lips to the back of her hand, the soft voice murmuring 'Goodnight, little miss' just before he flew away like a white dove into the darkness), and when the men in uniforms had arrived at their apartment door with questions and paperwork she had found out her oddly gentle visitor's name:_

_Kaitou Kid, the Phantom Thief._

_It had been very exciting the next morning when she went to school and told her friends; Conan's face had turned very red._

_And later on—_

_There had been a moment, __months__ back, when she almost thought she had met him again; just for a second or two, when strong arms had grabbed her from behind and taken her away from terror into safety….. It had been Ojiwa-sensei, of course, who had been so scary and awful and she had been SURE she was going to be killed—_

_--but the gentle, quick hands had caught her up and whisked her away, and the gentle voice (familiar, she was SURE it was familiar!) had told her to stay put and then—_

_--then she had been rescued by the police. And she hadn't really known what to say when they asked her just __who__ had gotten her away safely….. Later on, when Mouri-tantei told them that he had seen Hei-san the Janitor scoop her up, she had simply nodded; of course, that's who it had to be, didn't it?_

_Didn't it?_

_But… now….._

_Yushida Ayumi was learning a lot about assumptions, even if she didn't know the word yet. She was learning that leaping to them often meant falling on your face, and that sometimes it was much smarter to just say nothing and LISTEN. After all, that was how she had found out about Rin and Conan, wasn't it?_

She remained kneeling on the rug by the door, staring at the white figure crouched in the corner. It seemed to be awfully wet; the continuing _flap-FLAP_ of what she now thought was a cloak sounded heavy with rain even through the glass.

If he was wet, he was probably cold, wasn't he? Nobody should have to be cold and outside in the rain at night, like a stray cat or dog. Very slowly she climbed to her feet.

If he was wet and cold, he'd need a towel….. she still had one on the back of her chair from where Rita-kun had been helping her dry her hair after her bath. Picking it up and wondering if this was really a good idea, Ayumi slowly slid open the door to her balcony.

…_.flap-flap…. FLAPflapflap….._

The white figure hadn't moved at all. There was little light on the balcony, but the city-glow reflected down from the lowering clouds… she could see well enough. It WAS him, or at least it looked like it was… but if this was Kaitou Kid, why was he visiting her again? And why did he seem to be asleep on her balcony, all curled up into a little ball?

Was he tired from flying again? Maybe he was asleep—she needed to see his face. Biting her lip, Ayumi stepped forward; without any conscious thought on her part her hand drifted up towards the brim of the top hat to pull it off…..

Only to be stopped by a wet, white-gloved hand that whipped up and caught her wrist tightly; the little girl _squeaked_ in terror, and the hard grip immediately slackened— The hat tipped back and a monocle flashed mirror-like as a pale, weary face raised itself from its droop to smile weakly into her own:

"'Yumi-chan? Don't be scared—it's _me__….." _

_That voice._ She wondered, just for a moment, if she was still asleep…..

The voice was barely a thread, so infinitely tired that it was scarcely recognizable over the rain that fell on them both….. but it struck the child like a strong, sudden gust of wind. It flipped all her ideas around, turned her world _sideways_ and _backwards_ with realization and left her standing very, _very_ still and shocked before him, mouth open. Nearly a minute passed before she could manage to stammer out her question to the shivering figure that waited so very quietly:

"Hei-san? _**HEI-SAN**___ _W-why_ are you dressed up like Kaitou Kid???"

He smiled at her again, releasing her wrist and slumping back against the wall beside her rosebush; the rain-wet petals seemed like pale ghosts of the whiteness of his cloak. "Well…" he half-whispered, his voice so low and wavery she had to strain to hear it, "It's… sort of a long story. 'Yumi-chan? Can you—help me up? I need to get out of this rain—"

She hung back a little, so bewildered she didn't know quite what she should be doing; drops blew against her face and her feet were beginning to get wet. "Um… I can go get Rita-kun—she could help too—"

He seemed to wince; rain dripped steadily off the brim of the white hat, ran in a small stream as the strange figure that her friend Hei-san had suddenly become bowed his head. "No—nobody else—" The tired voice trailed off weakly as he shivered and seemed to slump in on himself. "Got to get inside….. so _cold….."_

He tried to straighten a little, bracing one hand against the wall. As it slid across the white stucco the wet glove left a dark, smeary blotch behind it, and Ayumi saw that the fabric was blotted with large stains. There wasn't enough light to really see colors, but she thought they might be red. "Hei-san? …..are you hurt?" The child reached out involuntarily but her friend shifted back very slightly, a grimace of pain crossing the little that she could see of his face.

He nodded. "That's why I want to get inside," Hei-san told her matter-of-factly, his voice even fainter than before. "My shoulder and left side— 'Yumi-chan? Can we-- just get out of this rain… and _then_ talk about that? Please?"

He sounded so tired.

It took a lot of work to get him inside—he was so _heavy,_ and she was so small; and every movement seemed to hurt him a lot. During the whole difficult, halting progress Hei-san kept his white cloak wrapped around his left arm and side—well, it HAD been white; it wasn't anymore. Dark stains had bloomed across the pale cloth even before they moved, and by the time he sank down on the rug just inside Ayumi's door they had grown considerably and the rainwater that dripped from his limp form was red.

Outside the rain was beginning to slacken; it was already a lot lighter than it had been, as if the downpour had only existed to bring her strange visitor to her. Strong gusts of wind were beginning to chase the clouds across the sky, wailing fitfully through the balcony rails.

The little girl bit her lip as she stared at her friend and teacher in the dim light; there were so many questions, so many impossibilities right there in front of her—her young mind tried to cope with them and failed. It was just too much to think about… So, with the practicality that was a strong part of her character, Ayumi simply put them aside to deal with later. Hei-san was wet and he was hurt (she was soaked through too, but she'd worry about that in a minute); he needed to get dry and to feel better. _Those_ were the important things right now.

The towel she had carried lay forgotten in a sodden mass on the balcony outside; as the child quietly closed the door, she considered what needed to be done. When she got soaked, the first thing her mom did was make her change clothes; but she didn't have anything that would fit him-- Oh, wait, maybe she did…

Kneeling beside the still figure, she whispered "I'll be right back—" He did not stir; she wasn't certain if he had even heard her.

The warmth and dry air of the hallway gave her something of a shock as she slipped out of the door, shutting it behind her. From the living room she could hear Rita-kun's quiet snores above the low mutter of the television, and she hesitated for a second; if she woke Rita-kun up….. but Hei-san had asked her not to, so she didn't.

Her father's bath-robe was hanging on the back of the bathroom door; that (and the armful of towels supplied by the same room) made up her burden as she staggered back into her bedroom, as well as the small first-aid kit from beneath the sink. Hei-san had not moved at all, from what she could tell; he still lay half-curled on his right side, his face resting against one outflung arm.

'First things first'—her mother always said that; Ayumi swallowed hard and gently reached out to remove the white top hat. It was completely soaked, the silk oddly heavy in her fingers; peering inside, she saw that it seemed to have things hidden inside it (there were a number of pockets and interesting compartments) that she would've liked to look at.

Maybe later. Little-girl fingers pulled the monocle gingerly free, laying it on top of the hat. _NOW_ what? She frowned; if he'd wake up, it would be a lot easier….. "Hei-san? Hei-san, can you wake up a little? Please…? Hei-san…?"

Nothing. His breathing was fast and sort of sharp, like somebody having a bad dream. She'd have to do what she could on her own.

Carefully Ayumi pulled the white cloak away from his side; the mass of wet fabric stuck to him in several places, but she was determined and finally got it all away. That was when she drew back, appalled—she knew that he was _hurt,_ but….. there was so much blood all over the place; he looked awful, and it was icky. She was going to get it all OVER herself!

Never mind; he needed to be fixed up. And she was soaking wet anyway….. A moment's exploration showed her how the cloak was fastened at the shoulders; she couldn't get it off the one he was lying on, but she unfastened it from his wounded side and folded it back. The top of his jacket was _awfully_ messy—Ayumi could see that it was torn in several places, the ones with the most dark stains; as she tried to pull it free Hei-san jerked beneath her gentle tugging and moaned, making her pull back in alarm: she was hurting him!

"Hei-san? Hei-san, _please_ wake up--- please?"

Still nothing, and the stains were larger and darker now. It was on her rug, too, and--- Well, if he wouldn't let her take his jacket off, she would just have to fix him up with it on. His arm seemed to be tied to the rest of him somehow, and the knots were too tight for her small fingers to open. Frowning ferociously, the girl set to work.

Several towels later, Ayumi sat back on her heels and wiped her messy hands absently on her damp pajamas. She had tried to remember the stuff Conan had told them once about how to take care of hurt people—if they were bleeding, you were supposed to put bandages on the hurts all nice and tight, so the pressure kept the blood from coming out; that made sense. But she couldn't really see where he was hurt—his jacket was in the way. So she piled the towels on over and behind where he seemed to be needing them. But… she was supposed to make them tight, wasn't she? Pushing on the towels seemed to be a bad idea—Hei-san had sounded bad when she did that, so….. maybe if she piled something on the towels? Something to hold them in place?

It seemed to be working; the child tilted her head to one side and surveyed her friend. He was still awfully pale, but the stuffed animals she had piled on top of him were keeping the towels where they should be, and she had put an awful lot of tape to hold them in place as well as on the towels. Gently she draped her father's bathrobe on top of everything—it was warm and should help keep him dry.

Maybe she could get Hei-san to wake up now? Thinking hard, Ayumi's eyes wandered back to the door onto her balcony. The sodden towel was still lying out there, flapping a little in the wind (the rain had mostly stopped by now); maybe it would help—

z z z z z

_--he had been sitting there in the rain for a couple of hours, he guessed, though he really didn't care. Somehow he didn't seem to feel it falling all soft and cold down on him, not really—he could nearly ignore it, could almost retreat away from it and everything else if he tried... and maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe if he just let himself go all numb he wouldn't have to think about what they had told him about his dad….. about the accident. It couldn't be true, anyway—his dad was the GREATEST magician in the world, he wouldn't go and die in some stupid stupid accident onstage, he couldn't!! So he'd just sit out here on the steps in the rain until somebody came and told him it was all a mistake, that his dad hadn't really died at all—_

_The door behind him opened, then closed. Maybe--? He looked up hopefully, water sliding down his young face to mingle with his tears._

_No. It was just Aoko-kun, her own face all swollen and blotchy with crying. She didn't say anything at all, just sat down beside him on the wet steps without a word. Stupid girl. Why had SHE been crying? She still had a father— her dad hadn't just—_

_--just died—_

_He must've made a sound without realizing it, since suddenly he felt his hand being gripped tightly by strong, thin fingers; Aoko-kun had hold of it and was squeezing it tightly, almost as if she wanted to hurt him. But in a weird way it sort of felt good—the hard clasp felt realer than anything had in the last few hours, realer than the misery that he had been wrapped in, realer than the rain or his mother's weeping….._

…_.. and somehow it helped to pull him back through the numb agony of his own grief, back into the world. Kaito was suddenly conscious of how cold he was, how wet the steps beneath him were… of the hushed voices inside the house behind him, the way the girl beside him was staring at him, her eyes so large and dark and sad—_

_Aoko-kun was crying too. Or maybe that was just the rain._

"_Kaito? Let's go inside, okay? Your mom—she needs you—"_

_His mom….. He could feel things now, and they hurt; the whole WORLD was full of hurt….. but his mom was hurting too. The numbness would have been more comforting, but it was even lonelier than sitting outside in the rain. If you had to be miserable, maybe it was better to be miserable in company….._

z z z z z

….. there was something on his face, cold and wet but not rain—and a little girl's voice, whispering: "-san? Hei-san? PLEASE wake up—Hei-san, if you don't wake up soon I'm gonna HAVE to go get Rita-kun….. Hei-san?" His eyes flickered open. Aoko?

No….. not Aoko….. and he wasn't a little boy sitting in the rain….. Memory came back in a rush, accompanied by dizzying pain and a feeling of panic; he attempted to move—

... and after the lights dancing in front of his eyes had cleared a bit, decided that he was just _fine_ where he was. He blinked in the half-darkness, trying to work out just exactly where that might be…. The sight of the child kneeling beside him helped; he noted rather foggily that she seemed to be holding a wet towel in her hands, hence the cold dampness on his face. _Let's… hear it for logic; yay, I figured it out. Now… WHERE am I and why do I feel so horrible--? _

_I remember—Ayumi's. She got me in off the balcony, and—that's all. Guess I passed out. Not so cold now, though, and—where's my hat? Where's my—oh. A_ weak flicker of amusement rose from somewhere inside him at the sight of the sodden white hat and monocle that lay beside him on the floor. _Heh….. Nakamori's been trying to unmask me for years, but a little girl beat him to it._

He shifted very, very slightly; something slid down from his chest, a covering of some kind—and there seemed to be several colorful _somethings_ attached to him here and there beneath it, fairly light but staying in place. After a moment his rather blurry vision recognized them as…

_stuffed animals? "_Ummm…. Ayumi-chan? WHY do I have stuffed animals all over me?" he whispered, trying to keep the bewilderment out of his voice. As the little girl came more clearly into focus, his eyes widened and he winced. There were dark stains on the child's pale blue pajamas, and her hands were blotched here and there with what he was certain was his blood.

_God, Ayumi….. If there had been any other way, I would NEVER have gotten you mixed up with this._

"I'm using them to hold your bandages on," she whispered back; one hand scratched absentmindedly at some of the stains on the other. "I couldn't get your jacket off, so I put towels on you where you were hurt. Did it work?"

He took stock of the situation, raising to one elbow slowly and carefully; it was hard to see in the dimness of the room, but he thought the majority of the bleeding had stopped. "Think so….. Thanks, 'Yumi-chan; you did good." He tried to smile at the child, his mind beginning to work a little more clearly now that he was out of the cold and rain.

As his eyes adjusted to the low level of light, he realized with a slight sense of panic that Ayumi had picked up his hat and was looking inside, her face curious and absorbed; small fingers dipped into a pocket and brought out a small matt-silver metal ovoid. "Hei-san? What's this?"

_Aaaak! "_A-Ayumi-chan? Please put that back… carefully, okay?" He drew a deep breath, trying to sit up; no good, she'd have to help him—his shoulder was useless at this point. "That's a… it's called a sonic grenade, and it's dangerous. Could you—_please_ put my hat down? Thank you…" He closed his eyes briefly as another wave of dizziness swept over him. "I promise I'll explain everything in a minute, but—can you help me sit up first?"

Between the two of them they managed to get him scooted back a little, propped up in the alcove between the wall and the end of the little girl's bed beside her toy-cupboard; the young thief blinked at a Yaiba action figure beside his head, wondering if it should look so fuzzy. _Must be the blood-loss. Poor_ Ayumi's rug was pretty messy by now—he wondered how they could fix it. Maybe Aoko would know how to get blood-stains out…..

_Aoko. Aoko's dad. Nakamori. The mole. Morning._ Each thought hit with the force of a hammer-blow, and he bit back a yelp.

_WHAT TIME WAS IT?!!?_ It was still dark outside, but how long had he been on that rooftop unconscious? How long had he been on Ayumi's balcony? "'Yumi-chan? W-what time is it?"

The little girl kneeling beside him squinted across the room at a clock beside her bed. "It's….. two fourty-seven…" She rubbed at her eyes and yawned a little. "I've never been up this late before. Hei-san?"

He was beginning to gently pry the mass of stuffed animals, towels and tape from his still-wet jacket, hissing to himself in pain. "… what?"

"WHY are you dressed up like Kaitou Kid? You said you'd explain….. I thought at first you really were him, but—"

_Oh man… this is gonna be even harder than talking to the Shrimp was. He_ took a deep, steadying breath, not really sure how to handle this but certain that it was going to have to wait. "'Yumi… I said I'd tell you and I will… but there's one more thing I have to do first." A sharp stab from his side made him shut his eyes briefly in pain, and when they opened the expression in their depths was bleak and resolute. "Do you—have a phone I could use.?"

z z z z z

_bzzzzng_

_bzzzzng_

"Mmph. Whmph?" A sleep-fogged eye appeared from the depths of a pillow and a couch-throw, accompanied by the irritable _"meww?"_ of a drowsy kitten. The eye blinked, first at the time shown on the VCR across the room, then at the phone on the couch's end-table.

_bzzzzng_

_bzzzzng_

"Rrrgh. 'lright, 'm getting it—" A hand emerged, fumbling for the receiver; the half-awake voice muttered unintelligible epithets as several books and a scattering of papers were knocked off onto the floor.

_bzzzzng_

_bzz-----_ "Moshi moshi... this had better be good…… whoever you are, do you know what TIME it—"

"_Aoko?"_ The tiny voice on the other end of the receiver sounded… odd. As alertness began to seep back into the young woman's voice, she recalled sleepily that her father had only come in only an hour or so before. He never answered the phone at night—she always did, waking him up if necessary; once Nakamori was asleep, he tended to stay asleep through nearly everything save for his daughter's rather extreme methods of breaking his slumber.

She frowned at the receiver. "Kaito? …is that you? You sound—" She wasn't quite sure _how_ he sounded, but it was odd. And why on earth was he calling her at three a.m., anyway?

A deep breath from the other end of the line; he almost sounded as if he had been running or something_. "It's me. Aoko, listen—please, just listen to me for a minute—this is really, really important—"_

She pushed a tangle of hair back from her eyes, grumbling slightly despite the distant alarm signals that were beginning to go off in the depths of her mind. "It had better be important—it's three in the morning! Where _ARE_ you?!? Are you at home?" As soon as she had asked, she wondered why; of course he'd be at home, they both had school the next day…..

Silence for a second or so. _"…Never mind that. Aoko--- your dad, did he get home okay?"_ She could still make out his breathing over the line, and a line of worry began to form between Aoko's brows; was he sick?

"Home… he came home a little more than an hour ago; he looked exhausted, but he was okay, I guess-- Kaito? Kaito, is something wrong?"

The pause on the other end of the line was longer this time. Unconsciously the young woman's fingers began to twist the couch-throw between them, wrapping it tightly in her fist. _"….. Yeah, something's wrong, but—I don't—Aoko, I can't tell you everything right now. But listen, you have to—"_

"Kaito? What do you _mean_ you can't 'tell me everything right now??' If this is one of your tricks—" She was beginning to get a little angry, although the worry was still there. A soft _thump!_ announced the arrival of Spot on the couch beside her; the kitten nudged his fluffy way into her lap, blue eyes blinking up questioningly at hers. "Merrow?" She scratched the feline's ears absently, frowning.

"_Aoko? Can you….. I know this sounds strange, but—can you just trust me? Please? This really is important—a lot depends on it."_ Kaito's distant voice had a desperate quality to it now that she had never heard in it before; the incipient anger melted away under growing concern, and the kitten in her lap gave a faint yowl of protest as her fingers tightened a little too much.

"_Aoko? Are you still there?"_

"I… yes. Okay—just tell me. What's so important?"

"_It's your dad. You've got to keep him from going in to work tomorrow—tell him anything, do __anything__—tell him you got an, I don't know, an anonymous call that-- that somebody was planning to ambush him or something—"_ His words were clipped and harsh, almost strangled by the importance of the point he was trying to get across.

Aoko's eyes widened; suddenly the Inspector's daughter was _quite_ awake. "Kaito? What—how do you—WHY?? Do you want to talk to him? Let me go get him up—"

The voice became even more desperate, and she heard him give a faint gasp as if something was _hurting_ him. _"NO! He—won't believe me the way he'll believe you. Just… please, just stop him from going in, Aoko… please… I'm not lying or trying to trick you—if he goes into work, he'll die. That's the truth, Aoko—"_ His words cut off as he drew in his breath sharply; in the background the young woman could hear a soft, low-pitched murmur of concern in what sounded like a child's voice, and she heard Kaito say something that ended in 'Ayumi-chan'.

_'Ayumi-chan'? Who's Ayumi? "_Kaito? Kaito, are you okay--?" She found herself clutching at the phone and leaning forward; Spot gave a plaintive yowp and jumped back onto the floor, tail lashing irately.

"_I----- Aoko, I can't----- Just __**tell **__him, okay? __Don't let him go to work__. Call his office and have them check it out—the bomb squad, whatever-- Somebody's gonna be waiting for him. Please, Aoko? Just-- __**Please**__?!?"_

Her own breathing was coming harder now; mental images of possible reasons behind the desperation on the other end of the peculiar conversation were beginning to bubble up, and they weren't helping to calm her nerves at all. "Alright….. alright. I'll think of something. But—Kaito? You'd better have a really good explanation for this later—and where ARE you, anyway? If you're at home I can come over right now—"

"_No, 'm not at home. --Aoko? One more thing----- I'm sorry."_

"'Sorry?' What for?" The sadness in his voice made her own tone soften a little. "What do you have to be sorry for? Kaito—"

"_... I just… am. Lots of stuff I should've told you… but I didn't want you to be involved… too dangerous, and it wouldn't be fair to you. So much I wanted to tell you… and now I don't know what's gonna happen. 'm sorry, Aoko. I wish….. never mind."_

"……….Kaito?"

"_Won't be at school tomorrow—I'm pretty sure about THAT, anyway—" She_ could hear a faint laugh over the phone. _"Don't tell Hakuba about this, okay? And—don't tell your father who the call came in from—that's really important. If there's any way at all… of salvaging this whole stupid situation….. Aoko?"_

"Kaito? Where are you--? I think I'd better get over there, you really don't sound okay—"

"_Aoko? I really am sorry. Did it because… seemed like the right thing to do… at the time. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't… not important. Just… I'm sorry, you know? Wanted to tell you, because I don't know what'll happen next. Gotta go now—"_

"KAITO! Don't you _dare__—"_

The line went dead.

z z z z z

The receiver slid from weakened fingers to thump softly onto the floor, and a very weary young thief allowed closed his eyes and allowed his head to droop back against the wall behind him.

_**Did it**__. Now at least Nakamori-san has a fighting chance—he'll listen to Aoko, hopefully at least. And she won't stop at just telling him—if she really thinks he's in trouble, she'll stop at nothing to keep her dad safe._

The room was very quiet now; the only sounds were those of his breathing and that of the wind outside the glass doors as it blew the rainclouds into tatters, revealing fitful glimpses of the full moon riding midway down the sky.

_I almost told her, didn't I? I wanted to….. wanted to tell her about what I've been doing, what my life's been turning into while everybody else is thinking about what they want to do after school. I already know what I'm going to be doing, whether I want to do it or not-- those bastards that killed my father killed any other future I might've had as well._

_Wanted to tell her. Hate lies, and I have to tell so many, __so__ many….. So tired of lies._

_So tired._

He shivered, his good hand going to his wounded shoulder and then down to his side. The bleeding did seem to have stopped… in the morning maybe he could figure out a way to contact Jii, or even his mom--- He couldn't stay at Ayumi's indefinitely.

Ayumi--? Kaito opened his eyes hastily; he had almost forgotten that the child was there. She sat scarcely a foot away, her knees drawn up and her arms clasped across them, sleepy eyes fixed on his face. 'Yumi-chan?"

The child came fully awake with a slight start. "Uhh?" She rubbed at her eyes with the back of one hand.

Running one hand across his forehead, he tried hard to think. "Ayumi? You said—something about a 'Rita-kun?'" Moments later he had a better idea of the situation. A rather hard-sleeping babysitter was konked out on the couch in the living room, Ayumi's parents were both away on business trips, and she had no school the next day—it was a Teacher's Work Day or some such. _He _did, though, but he sort of suspected that was a moot point right now…..

_Hope Aoko can think of something to tell Hakuba— But_ that was the least of his worries, wasn't it?

Rita-kun, the neighbor girl who was looking after Ayumi had classes; she planned on stopping in at lunchtime to check on her charge, but the little girl had been given strict instructions to stay in the apartment during the hours she was away. That solved a few problems, he guessed—at least he wouldn't be dodging a suspicious babysitter during the day.

God, he was so _thirsty_. He remembered reading somewhere that people who lost a lot of blood tended to suffer from dehydration— "'Yumi? Could you get me a glass of water? Very, very quietly—we don't want to wake up your friend in the living room…" The little girl nodded, then climbed to her feet. "And… why don't you change into some new pajamas? I think those got a little… messy… Maybe you'd better put the phone away too." His heart seemed to sink to the soles of his feet at the sight of the blotches and smears on the innocent surface of her flannel PJs—the incongruity of the sight was hard to bear, as was the guilt it brought forth.

_Can't think about that right now; I can beat myself over the head with it later. The_ little girl nodded drowsily, scooping up the cordless phone and pulling another set of clothing from a drawer before she padded softly out of the room; he heard a bathroom door close quietly behind her somewhere in the hall and hoped desperately that Rita-kun, however nice a person she probably was, didn't wake up. He did NOT feel up to dealing with a hysterical babysitter just then.

_Think I'll just sit back here for a moment and catch my breath. So tired….. His_ eyes closed as some of the nervous energy and adrenaline that had kept him going seeped away. Now that he had accomplished the most important thing on his mind, a little of the pain from his wounds lessened as muscles relaxed and taut nerves loosened.

_I'll just rest for a bit, just 'til Ayumi comes back—--- Weary_ eyes slid closed as his breathing calmed and deepened…..

z z z z z

Ayumi buttoned the bottom button on her pajama shirt with freshly-washed hands; it was good to be wearing dry, clean stuff. But—her wet clothes were sticky and stiff with stains and she couldn't leave them in the bathroom… With a scowl the little girl scooped up the offending garments, intending to carry them back into her bedroom. Maybe Hei-san could figure out what to do. She would've woken Rita-kun up, but…..

As she took the glass of water from the sink and turned to go, a faint _BREEEEP_ came from one corner of the bathroom; she had left the cordless phone on the counter and tossed a towel on top of it—no wonder it sounded so muffled. Only the receiver had a ringer on it, so Rita-kun had probably not woken up…..

"Um, moshi moshi?" The child tried to sound grown-up, wondering who would call at such a funny hour.

"_H-hello….. who is this?"_ A young woman's voice seemed to be on the other end of the line, sounding rather uncertain. _"I was trying to reach Kuroba Kaito….. is he there?"_

Ayumi hesitated, a strange, unsettled feeling in her stomach. 'Kaito'?? Like in 'Kaitou Kid'?? "Ummmm….. Are you his friend?" Her eyes brightened a little. "Are you the one he just called a minute ago?"

"_Yes! Is he there? Can I talk to him--?"_ Whoever it was sounded terribly relieved. _"Wait—before you take the phone to him, can you tell me where this is? I mean, where are you both?"_

"We're at my home. I live in an apartment—he got hurt, so he came here because…. I guess because he needed to call you." The little girl thought hard, remembering a certain necklace that Hei-san had shown her a few days earlier. "Are… you _Aoko?"_ she asked slowly; "Did you just have a birthday? and….." she fought back a giggle, which escaped a little anyway. "…and do you chase him with a mop sometimes?"

"_Um…. Yes, that's me….. Is this 'Ayumi-chan'? Wait, wait—you said he got HURT?!?"_

"Uh huh. He's resting right now—" (she had seen Hei-san's head beginning to nod as she slipped from her bedroom) "—but you can talk to him in the morning if you want. I don't have school tomorrow—the teachers have a Work Day, so I'll be here." At a distant snore from the living room down the hall, the child closed the bathroom door with her foot and added softly, "I can't talk much more—I don't want to wake up Rita-kun, 'cause Hei-san said not to."

"_Hei-san? Who's Hei-san? And why doesn't he want you to…. Ayumi?"_

The child yawned. "I think he's Kaito. That's who called you, right? Only I call him Hei-san. But he's him… I think." She yawned again.

(And she _did_ think they were the same, somehow. In the depths of her sleepy mind, three figures seemed to merge together easily, seamlessly into one: Hei-san who had saved her from Ojiwa-sensei, Hei-san her friend and teacher, and the gentle-voiced visitor that had landed on her balcony so many months past. After all, he _was_ a magician, wasn't he?) In the end, it was a simple thing.

However, it didn't seem to be so easy for Aoko-san; Ayumi could practically hear the young woman on the other end of the conversation thinking. _"I….. all right. I have to take care of something in the morning, but—I'll be over a little later, okay? What's your address?"_

The little girl hesitated for a moment (her mother had told her not to tell that to strangers)—but this was Hei-san's friend, and _he_ was here already….. so it was probably all right. As Hei-san's friend wrote down the address to her apartment, Ayumi felt a strong wash of _gratitude_ run through her—she was good at lots of things, she knew, and Conan and Rin both had told her she was smart….. but she was still glad to know a grownup was coming to take care of her wounded teacher. There was so much going on that she didn't understand…..

"_Ayumi? Are you still there?"_

"Oh! Uh huh—sorry, I was just thinking about stuff. What?"

"_How… badly is Kaito hurt? What happened to him, did he say? And WHY doesn't he want you to wake up—who did you say? Rita-kun? Who's she?"_

"She lives down the hall; my mom and dad are out of town, so she's staying here. He—I'm not sure how hurt he is. He stopped bleeding, I think, and he looks like he feels better but—"

Aoko made an indecipherable noise through the phoneline. "What?"

"—_nothing…. Just—just keep going….. how did he get there without her knowing?"_

"He flew onto my balcony, I think. That's how he got here last time, anyway-- if it _WAS_ him, and I think it was."

"……………_."_

"Aoko-san? Are you there?"

"_Ayumi? Listen, okay? I want you to answer me very carefully: HOW does he fly?"_ The young woman's voice sounded rather strange.

Adults asked the strangest things. Why on earth would THAT matter? Ayumi blew out her breath in a sigh, then answered. "I only saw him fly one time, but he was on a white kite-thingie. He was getting away from the police helicopters then, and he flew away like he was a bird—only he looked more like a paper airplane." She giggled again, remembering.

The other end of the phone was silent.

"Aoko-san? Can I ask you something before you go?"

"_I….. yes….. go ahead."_ She sounded even funnier now, almost like she was trying not to cry or start yelling.

"Why do you call him Kaito? He said I could call him Hei-san….."

From the other end of the conversation she could hear a very deep breath being taken. _"That's a very, very good question, Ayumi-kun. When I get there, I hope he'll be able to answer it. I'd like VERY much to come right over right __now__….. but there's something important I have to take care of first."_ The voice calmed a little, becoming firmer. _"You go back and tell Kaito—tell Hei-san that I'll be coming in the morning, all right? And tell him he had better not go anywhere, or I'll----- well, just tell him that if he disappears I'll put my mop where the sun doesn't shine, okay?"_

The little girl frowned. "Where's that?"

"_He knows…… Good night, Ayumi-kun. And thank you."_

"Aoko-san?"

"_What?"_ The young woman still sounded very upset.

"HOW did you know my phone number? I didn't hear Hei-san—Kaito—tell you….. I don't think he knows it either….."

"_My phone has an Automatic Redial feature. Goodnight, Ayumi-kun."_

"Good night….." The little girl blinked at the satisfaction in the answer as the connection cut off. Aoko sounded awfully nice but she ALSO sounded like she had a bad temper. But then, Hei-san probably already knew that, if she chased him around with mops…..

Padding softly down the hall, she hung up the phone in the kitchen; Rita-kun was still snoring away on the couch—when she slept, she really slept.

As she slipped back into her bedroom and quietly closed the door behind her, Ayumi listened intently; good, Hei-san wasn't snoring. If he was going to sleep at the foot of her bed, at least he'd be quiet.

His head jerked back up as she knelt beside him, holding out the glass of water; her stained pajamas dropped unnoticed onto the carpet beside him, rolled into a neat wad. "Hei-san? Kaito? Here you are…. Drink this." Gratefully he took the glass of water from her hand, swallowing it down in huge gulps. "Do you feel better now?" She leaned forward, pressing the back of one hand against his forehead like her mother always did. "You feel sort of warmer now—you were awfully cold when you came in—"

The empty glass suddenly slipped from nerveless fingers as he stared at her with widened eyes. "Ayumi--? W-WHAT did you just call me?"

She thought. "Um…. Kaito? That's what Aoko-san called you. She said she wants to ask you about why you have both names when she comes here in the morning….. and she told me to tell you that if you disappear, she'll put her mop where the sun doesn't shine. Where is that, anyway?" The child cocked her head to one side curiously as she picked up the glass. "She wouldn't tell me—"

"Uhhhhhh….." Hei-san seemed almost to deflate, his face nearly as white as his clothing. Closing his eyes he asked her carefully: "Just… when did you talk to Aoko?"

"When I was in the bathroom just now; she called back on Automatic Redial." He sounded almost as upset as his friend had.

"Oh. And—she'll be here in the morning?"

"Uh huh. And you can't disappear, or she'll put her mop where—"

"Yeah, yeah, I got that bit." Hei-san groaned softly, putting both white-gloved hands over his face. As he shifted slightly on the rug he dropped one hand to the floor to steady himself—and something small and silvery fell out of his sleeve. His eyes were still closed; curiously Ayumi reached down to pick it up.

It seemed to be a piece of jewelry, a big one; it was shaped like a tear, and in the broken moonlight that was beginning to flood in from the balcony door as the stormclouds blew away, she could see that the glittering stone mounted in the center was green. It sparkled in the moonlight like a rainbow, almost as if many more colors than just _green_ were in the stone—

"Hei-san? What's this?" She held it up; as his eyes blinked open she noticed some sort of sticky stuff on the back of the piece of jewelry and wiped it away on her sleeve; _Yuck!_

He jerked slightly, reaching out hurriedly to take it back. "Oh, great—now I'm aiding and-- and abetting in the corruption of minors….. 'Yumi-chan, that's something you shouldn't touch—" Carefully he wiped it clean with the white glove on his good hand, afterward tugging it off with his teeth and dropping it into his lap. The pendent glimmered brilliantly between his fingers as he turned it this way and that way, a faint smile crossing his face.

"Pretty thing, isn't it? There are… a lot of pretty gems in the world, though….. and I'm just after one. Just one….. You'd think that after all this time, I'd be able to… FIND it, but…." He sighed, his hand dropping. The moonlight glittered off of the green surface, casting tiny glints of light across his lap.

Hei-san's eyes drifted closed again; his voice was very soft, almost dream-like as he spoke. Beside him the little girl sat very still, listening. "Hei-san….. Kaito?" she said softly, and he nodded.

"My father—that's what he called himself too, before me; he looked for it first… and They got him when… when he refused to do what they said. I've been looking too." He sighed, a painful sound that rasped through his lungs. "So many different gems….. the Golden Eye, the Blue Birthday… the Black Star… the Savannah Marquis, that stupid dog-collar, the Sultan's Luck, the Green Dream……. and all the ones my father checked out before me….. so many, and there're so many left, too."

His fingers traced the edges of the gem, caressing it gently.

"So much work to get them, and then… when they aren't the right one… I always give 'em back. Always. 'Cause they're never the Pandora Gem….. never."

Ayumi's forehead wrinkled at the sadness in her friend's voice. It was so strange, just sitting here in the fleeting shadows and the light of the full moon that was peering so brightly through the clouds outside now--- just listening to Hei-san's half-understood words. And the gem lying in his lap….. it was so pretty. So bright—

_-- really_ bright--

"Hei-san? Kaito?"

"Mmph? What?" His eyes stayed closed; he almost seemed to be falling back asleep.

"Why is it glowing?"

At that they did open. "Why is _what_ glowing--? Wh—"

He caught his breath, staring down at his lap. Then, seemingly without volition, the fingers of his right hand curled around the gem lying there and he raised it up to hold it high in the full moon's light.

_It glimmered like foxfire, casting a brilliant, scarlet-tinged rainbow through the greenness and over the faces of the little girl and the young man….._

And he whispered, "I found it. I _**found**_ it….."

To be continued…………

_**Ysabet's Notes:**__ Sooooo… was that a surprise, or did you expect it? Gomen ne, either way—it wasn't what I originally planned to do (it was one of those I'm-taking-a-bath-and-BING!-suddenly-a-lightbulb-comes-on-over-my-head ideas….. evil laugh And I even finally had peacocks in this chapter too! As for THAT little dream-sequence, well… yes, I did intend it to have the same level of 'reality' (whatever that means) that the Conan-Shinichi-Ran-Rin dreams did in Second Wind. Don't ask me how… but after all, maybe they were dreaming first and Ayumi elbowed her way in? I may write these things, but that doesn't mean I'm in control all the time, I can guarantee that._

_Got all sorts of oddities planned, some of which are still lurking in my subconscious and haven't allowed themselves to see the light of day as yet. This one's turning out rather peculiar, but I'm enjoying the trip. Hope y'all are too. Mucho Thankees to those brave souls who beta-read this and caught my errors before it saw posting: Hauntress, Magik, Loqui, Becky, Icka and anybody else I'm forgetting (sorry!). And __**HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ICKA!!!**_


	7. True Or False

**Windfall******

**By Ysabet**

_Chapter 7:  True Or False_

                _I spoke to you in cautious tones;_

_                You answered me with no pretense…_

_                And yet I feel I said too much_

_                --- My silence is my self-defense._

_                For every time I've held a rose_

_                It seems I've only felt the thorns_

_                And so it goes, and so it goes,_

_                And so will you soon, I suppose……_

_                But if my silence makes you leave_

_                Then that will be my worst mistake;_

_                So I will share this room with you,_

_                And you can have this heart to break._

_                                                (Billy Joel, 'And So It Goes')_

Somewhere, deep within a room in which sunlight never entered, a clock ticked discreetly.  It was an excellent clock, certainly, all gilt and porcelain face with delicately fashioned hands and the most finely-crafted works, keeping very exact time; but it was useless.

The room's sole inhabitant had all the time in the world.

_…tick…tick…tick…tick…tick…tick…_

A second sound broke the stillness:  a sort of elongated _*ssssshh* as the room's owner drew on his cigar; the tip glowed like a jewel, simmering to brilliance and then fading a little grayer as ash formed.  Fragrant wreaths of smoke floated invisibly in the shadowy air like serpents._

The room's inhabitant liked to come here to think.  It was soothing, the dark; you could forget so much that irritated you if you couldn't *see* it—and there was so _much that was irritating about today's world, in his considered opinion.  There were too many fools, for one thing…  Oh, not that he had anything against the human herd's tendency towards lowest-common-denominator thinking—it made them all that much easier to drive where he wanted them, really.  Toss the right bait in front of them, dangle a handful of grain or a bit of rich pasture where they could see it and they took off through the gate of their own accord, never noticing that their path led them straight to the slaughterhouse._

No, it was the ones that decided to think for themselves that truly annoyed him in the long run.  As if their weak little half-witted schemes and plans weren't blatantly obvious to one with the right kind of vision…..

He blew a half-disgusted, half-amused cloud of smoke into the air, one eyebrow invisibly cocked as he shook his head in mocking resignation.  Well, there would always be fools—and there would always be those who would feed off of them; cattle and tigers, so to speak.  Natural selection—that was the way the world went.

He had learned that long, _*long* ago._

_…tick…tick…tick…tick…tick…tick…_

A discreet buzz woke him from his reverie as the phone at his elbow signaled his attention; with a faint shrug, the room's owner picked it up and listened, not bothering to identify himself.  It was quite unnecessary, after all.

Moments later when he placed the phone back on its rest, his amusement had leaked away like wine from a cracked jug.  As he drew on his cigar again prior to rising from the upholstered leather chair, he reflected darkly to himself that there seemed to be other beasts about beside cattle and tigers.

And no tiger could _ever bear another predator in its territory._

***********************************************************************

It was, considered Kaitou Kid, Phantom Thief Extraordinaire, somewhat *inevitable* that he would end up hiding in someone's dark closet eventually.  He had, after all, hidden in elevator shafts, on roofs, inside display cases, beneath floors, within (and suspended from) ceilings, etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseum.  Therefore the chances that he should end up sooner or later in a stuffy, dark closet actually *were* rather high when you thought about it.

Not that he was in the dark, or at least not _totally.  Oh no….. not completely.  First off, the closet-door was open a couple of inches, letting in the cool moonlight; secondly, he had a rather avant-garde form of nightlight with him._

The  young thief cupped his hands around the tiny, glowing ember that lay burning coolly on his palm, fascinated by how he could extinguish its light simply by blocking out the rays of the moon that had nearly disappeared behind the distant buildings.  One finger in the way of the pale beams, and the crystalline red glow simply winked out; move the finger out of the way and it was back, like magic…..  It was an odd light, really—there was something in it which had the quality of _heat; and even though it emitted not even the faintest warmth Kaitou felt that if he held it long enough it would, somehow, begin to burn him._

He supposed that was understandable.

The young thief shifted a little, painfully; his shoulder was so goddamned _stiff now, the muscles around his wound aching with every heartbeat.  As for the wound itself—well, never mind that; if he kept his mind off it enough, he might even forget how much it hurt (or at least that's what he told himself, lying there in the dark and trying to sleep).  His side was bad too; it was hard to take a breath without the deep score aching dreadfully, but it wasn't like he had a choice. _

Sooooo…. It was better to lie there and play with his new little acquisition than think about gunshot wounds and the inevitable explanations of the morning, really.  And besides, the Pandora Gem was a good distraction.

_*I ought to hate you, you know,* he thought at the glittering thing, almost as if it could hear him; it shone back noncommittally.  __*My father died because of you—my life got twisted into an unbelievable shape because of you.  I ought to loathe every little shiny, gaudy scrap of whatever you're made of (I'm pretty damned sure you're not an emerald), I really should….. and instead I'm sitting here playing with you like you're the coolest thing to come along since vitamin-enriched coffee.  Wonder why?  Aside from the fact that I can't quite believe I finally, FINALLY managed to find you, that is…..*_

He balanced the pendent on his knee, allowing the light to play across one door of the closet; for a minute or two Kaito amused himself by making hand-shadows dance across the surface— his dog-shadow was pretty good, his snarling lion was decent and he could do a pretty convincing pterodactyl too, but he needed both hands for that last one.

_*Heh; bet I'm the first to ever use you for THIS purpose…..*  Somewhat dizzily Kaito wondered if he was becoming a bit feverish._

Ayumi had finally gone back to bed.  The little girl had been too sleepy for explanations by the time her teacher managed to think clearly enough to formulate sentences (the discovery that his latest prize was actually honest-to-God REALLY the thing he had been looking for had, basically, fried his synapses for a bit) and had accepted that he would tell both her *and* Aoko at the same time the next day.  

Personally, every time he thought of _that his left eyebrow would begin to twitch like a metronome; so he tried not to think of it too much._

_*….. Aoko…..*_

The closet was a bit on the small side for a wounded man (he couldn't really lie down, and his young apprentice seemed to have entirely too many shoes for real comfort) but it was definitely better than hiding under the bed.  Kaito had briefly considered the possibility of hiding in her parents' bedroom, but decided that any odd noises should come from inhabited rooms only—and in his current condition he was a little clumsy.  If Rita-kun heard him knock over something in a room where no-one was supposed to be, the jig would, quite disastrously, be up.

The moon was setting; there was probably only about ten minutes or so of its light left, so Kaito stopped with the hand-shadows.  There was something else he wanted to check before the rays faded…..  Fishing in a small pocket inside his jacket he pulled out an old-fashioned jeweler's loupe, the kind one screwed into one eye; a year or so of snatching gems had given him a certain fascination for the things, and he had begun learning about their qualities not long after his dénouement as Kid.  Holding the piece of jewelry between two fingertips with the moon behind it, he leaned close.

_*Veeeeeeeery interesting…..  Some odd refractive qualities in this little monster, almost as if it's cracked; and I can't quite see all the way through the thing at the center, the glow's just too strong.  Funny— there're little dark flecks here and there, and—WHAT the hell?!?*  A sudden brown cloudiness had hazed across the gem, appearing from the brilliant center and spreading outward… and he smelled….._

….. roses?

_*Right; heh, roses.  A gem that smells of flowers?  I don't think so.  Must be 'Yumi-chan's rose-bush on the balcony… but what's this blurring—eeehhhw, there's something coming out of the back-----*  A tiny blob had appeared on the reverse of the gem (its enclosing silver fixture was merely a loop-setting, rather than a complete enclosure), seemingly out of nowhere.  In the uncertain light it appeared somewhat gooey, and it reminded its examiner of nothing so much as a bit of tree-sap.  He frowned a little, rubbing the stuff between his two fingers and wondering at the way it seemed to vanish into his skin so easily._

It tingled.

_*Okay—that's odd, I admit it.  The stories about the Pandora Gem don't say ANYTHING about it oozing sticky little boogers all over the place--*  The young thief drew back, regarding the stone with disfavor.  __*I remember, the velvet beneath it was stained in the display; I wonder if this is something it does all the time, or does it have to do with the moon?  Moonlight from the overhead skylight would have touched it for a few hours…..  Ah, damn, speaking of the moon, it's almost gone—better sit up a little more—*_

_*AAAAHHGH!!  @#$%!!  Shoulder-------*_

His unthinking movements had set off fireworks in his shoulder and side again; a wave of pure misery shivered its way through his body, leaving Kaito sick and shaking in its wake.  _*GOD, that hurts!!  Aoko, I know you're gonna feel like murdering me when you show up, but I hope I can persuade you to bandage me up before you turn me into a corpse; Ayumi meant well, but towels, tape and stuffed animals aren't really much help.  Good thing the bullets didn't hit any lower on my shoulder, or I probably *would've* bled to death on that rooftop.*  The considerable dose of aspirin that he had downed before he sent his young friend back to bed was helping, as was the warmth of the little girl's room and the bathrobe that he had wrapped around himself; on the other hand, his clothes were still uncomfortably damp and his wounds still needed cleaning that the pounding rain had not been able to supply._

_*Better get some sleep, I guess…..  It's what, about __four a.m.__ or so?  Can't quite see the clock from here.  'Yumi-chan said that her friend Rita would be leaving for school around seven-ish…  She'll probably be up in about two hours.  A little sleep would be good, assuming I don't roll over or something of the sort.*  The young thief carefully eased himself back, settling in a more comfortable position as his breath came sharply.  __*Y'know… in the movies, the hero—Aaagh!—gets all shot up and… manages to toss it off with, with just the occasional—aaaow!—wince or grimace; you never think about blood loss, or how nauseous pain makes you.  You don't picture Schw—SHIT, that hurts!—Schwarzenegger or Chan or Lee with a splitting headache or… stiff muscles….. Man, I'll never hear anybody say 'It's just a flesh-wound' the same way, that's for certain….. rrrrgh…..*_

Moving slowly and deliberately, he settled gently onto his right side; feeling had been coming back into his left arm over the past hour as the aspirin's effects set in, and he flexed the digits of his hand cautiously.  _*Aaaaah…..  I don't think I'll do that much for a while; never knew you needed your shoulder-muscles to flex you fingers, for crying out loud.*_

From across the room he could hear Ayumi's steady, light breathing; the child slept the sleep of the innocent, a mere lump beneath the bedcovers from his vantage point.  What a little trooper she was; smart, good in a crisis, loyal… and unfortunately tenacious when she got hold of an idea sometimes—she _*still* wanted to know 'where the sun doesn't shine' was….._

His eyes closed.  Aoko—

Kaito could see her so clearly in his mind, could see how she had looked that morning in school (was it really less than a day ago that things had still been what passed for 'normal' for him?  _*Get a grip, Kuroba; you and 'normal' parted ways a long time ago—Hell, you not only parted ways, you started a feud and occasionally take pot-shots at each other in passing.*)  She had been wearing the pendent he gave her beneath the collar of her uniform….._

…and chasing him around the classroom.

He smiled slowly to himself, remembering…..

* * *

_*****SWOOSH!!***  The mop's swing had barely missed his head, causing Kuroba Kaito to grin in appreciation; he always liked a good workout to begin his day—and Aoko seemed to be in fine form this morning.  It hadn't even taken much to set her off, either; just a silly comment about how she seemed to be filling out her uniform much better these days…  The familiar glare had begun to smolder in her eyes, and he could almost swear that little lightnings had crackled there as she pulled her mop from seemingly empty space—_

_*****SWOOSH-SWISH!!***_

_*Oooo, good one; she got in a double swing there, Kaito—better get your butt in gear and stop admiring her technique, not to mention her legs—*_

_As he ducked a fairly emphatic jab-and-swat and reposted with a sideways bounce from an empty desktop, the teenager overheard a scrap of conversation from the back of the room.  One eyebrow arched slightly as he strained to listen while pelting past:_

_"…No way!  Look at 'em go, she hasn't yet managed to-- 100 yen says you can't do it—"_

_"Really?  You're on! HEY, KUROBA-KUUUUN!!!  HAVE YOU KISSED HER YET?!?"_

_*AWP??*  He skidded to a sudden stop at the yell, his mind tripping over itself.  *Uhhhhhhhh---*_

_*****WHAMMMMMM!!!!!*****  _

_He wobbled in mid-run and fell over with a thud onto a hapless tangle of desk and classmate, his ears ringing from the impact of Aoko's mop.  In the background he could hear a smug voice proclaim:  "There—toldja I could make her hit him.  So fork over my 100 yen……  Arigato, nice doing business with you….."_

_*DAMN.  She actually landed one….. wheeeeow, that girl's got a strong right arm.  Now-- who the HELL was making bets--?*_

_Slowly he clambered to his feet, ignoring the muffled protests beneath him ("Kuroba, could you *please* get yourself off me? That's my hand you're standing on—OW!!  Watch the feet--") as his gaze swept the classroom.  *Ahh, right—Yamada-kun, you're dead meat.  Gonna make sure something really SPECIAL shows up in your lunch today; maybe I should just inflict you with severe diarrhea or something like that—I think I still have those caster-oil capsules in my locker…..*  Across the room Hinagi Yamada caught his eye and immediately attempted to look innocent; however, his apparent Incipient Sainthood faded away as his gaze drifted past his classmate's shoulder, and Kaito also turned to look….._

_Nakamori Aoko glowered; from where she stood, her glare seemed quite capable of turning her target to stone or possibly inflicting a fiery death.  She had soldiered her mop across one shoulder; as she slowly, slowly approached her prey at a steady stalk, the unfortunate Yamada-kun opened and shut his mouth like a landed fish, frantically looking for a way out._

_Kaito grinned and crossed his arms; it looked like his caster-oil capsules wouldn't be needed after all._

_"For your information, he *hasn't*-- I mean, he---  That's NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS—Oooooh!!"  Her words suddenly stammered to a stop as Aoko's face reddened.  Behind her back, her former target's grin grew even wider; THAT ought to fan the flames quite a bit.  Nothing made a person angrier than saying something that they hadn't intended to….._

_As Aoko dropped the mop from her shoulder into her hands and assumed an all-too-familiar pose of attack, her new quarry seemed to shrink.  "Ummm, Aoko-kun—  D-don't get carried away, okay?  Just a harmless little question—didn't mean anything by it, what you two do together is, uhhhhh, is….  uhhhh….. EEEEP!!!"  Yamada-kun yelped in terror as the mop came down quite suddenly, barely missing his own head.  "HELP!"  He took off at a frantic run, dashing towards the exit.  Catcalls and cheers followed him, ending abruptly as he skidded full-tilt into their teacher as she entered the door._

_"AAAAHH!!!" _

_ *****CRASH!!!*****  _

_Papers fluttered everywhere, accompanied by muffled imprecations.  By the time things were under control and apologies had been made, Kaito was leaning back nonchalantly in his desk, hands behind his head.  As Aoko slid into hers with a scarlet face and a faint, smug grin, another classmate leaned over towards her usual target and prison-whispered:_

_"Hey, Kuroba-kun?  Why HAVEN'T you kissed her yet?  I mean, we all kinda got a clue at the party that you two were—"_

_Kaito chuckled very softly, clasping his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.  "'Cause she'd beat me into a bloody pulp if I pushed things, that's why.  Besides…" and he cracked one eye open, watching the Inspector's daughter surreptitiously; she was still blushing, but he saw her fingers come up to fleetingly touch the silver pendent hanging around her neck; "…besides, haven't you heard the saying that 'All things come to those who wait'?"  He chuckled again._

_From across the room, Hakuba Saguru glowered._

* * *

As his breathing gradually slowed in prelude to sleep, the Phantom Thief hidden in the closet smiled a little painfully to himself.  _*All things come to those who wait…..*   That included the bad things as well as the good things, he supposed.  In a couple of hours he'd be spilling his secrets to one Nakamori Aoko in the sort of situation that usually only happened during his worst nightmares….._

But he couldn't say that he hadn't really _*wanted* to tell her now and then, not really; sometimes the nightmares had turned around into dreams, good ones.  He guessed it all depended on how she took it; if she managed to forgive him all the lies and misdirections somehow, then…  _

But if she didn't…..

The pain that crossed the young thief's face had very little to do with Kaitou Kid and a lot to do with Kuroba Kaito.  _*If she hates me—  I—  Ah, hell. If she hates me, and she just may, I think I'll wish I had died in that shootout.*_

_*She hates Kid, and she hates what he makes her father do.  But she… cares for me.  I think…..  I guess it all depends on which is stronger, doesn't it?  God, Aoko…..  What reason have I given you to not hate me, anyway?  Ten years or so of friendship, and--- and the something-more that it's turned into lately?  We haven't even had *time* for it to really grow, not yet, even if it can-- even if I could *allow* it to.  The Inspector's daughter and an international criminal… yeah, right, great future THAT little relationship would have.  Ever notice that 'fat chance' means the same as 'slim chance'?*  He sighed; on the other side of the room Ayumi shifted in her sleep and murmured a little, causing his eyes to blink back open._

_*Let's face it, Kuroba:  this just might be the last time you see her.  Yesterday was probably the last 'normal' day you'll ever have, the last time you had the chance to sleep in your own bed or go to school… the last chance to be who you were.  When you swore to avenge your Dad you said you'd do anything to make Them pay; well, it looks like it's time to ante up.  What'll you do if she--*_

_*--No.  Don't think she'd do that—she wouldn't call her dad or the rest of the cops, not right away, no matter how mad she gets.  I think she'd give me time to run--*_

_*…and… then what?*  He stared bleakly out into the darkness of the closet._

_*I know Jii'll help me… and Mom…..  I'll have to explain to her too, though I doubt I'll have to tell her *much.*  I mean, there's no freaking way she hasn't figured things out, at least a little.  But I might as well plan on kissing my old life a big, fat goodbye right now.  That's what seeing Aoko will be, in a few hours—a chance to say goodbye.*_

_*And that's all.  Unless she understands and forgives me, which isn't very likely.*_

_*Why should she, after all?  Because I gave her a stupid necklace?  Because I've been picking on her and playing tricks on her and basically acting like a total idiot around her for years?  Because… because I've been running from her so goddamn fast all this time and really, really just wanted her to CATCH me?---  I--*_

_*Shit.  Where'd that thought come from?* _

Kaito winced in pain as the muscles in his neck tensed, pulling at his wounded shoulder.  A pure jab of misery shot through him, and he gritted his teeth.

_*You swore you'd give anything and everything to make Dad's murderers pay; right.  Time to keep your promise.  If being Kaitou Kid costs you any chance to ever be Kuroba Kaito again, you'll just have to deal with it.  Bet it'll hurt a hell of a lot more than a gunshot, though.*_

_*Aoko….. should've kissed you while I had the chance.*_

_ His eyes closed again, tightly; something wanted to leak out, and he couldn't let it.  With his hand closed tightly around the silver-and-gemstone bauble resting on his palm like a promise, the young thief curled up to drift in restless sleep for a few hours.  It was all the peace he was likely to get._

***********************************************************************

***click-click-bzzz***  _"—and it's six-thirty aye-em on the dot here in beautiful downtown __Tokyo__ under partly cloudy skies.  Let's start the half hour off with a string of hits from one of __America__'s greatest Country-Western singers, Merl Haggard:  'My Problems Got Problems', followed by 'Misery And Gin' and 'I Always Get Lucky With You'.  Wake up out there and smell the coffee, mina-san—"_

***CLICK***  A hairy-knuckled, groping hand managed to shut the horribly perky-voiced alarm off after only three tries, which was actually pretty good on the average.  Nakamori Ginzo HATED American Country-Western music with a deep and abiding passion, which was, of course, why he had his alarm clock set on Tokyo's only CW station.  He figured that, if nothing else, the sheer _annoyance factor would get him out of bed in order to shut the goddamned @#$%!! thing *up.*_

This method was occasionally rather hard on alarm clocks, understandably; Nakamori _*really* wasn't much of a Morning Person._

Blearily the Inspector rolled over to stare at the ceiling above his bed, the night's events beginning to flood back into his sleep-fogged brain like a bad dream.  He scratched at his jawline, the stubble rasping under his nails as he yawned and began the slow, grudging process of Getting Ready For Work.

_*Rrrrghh.  Want a SMOKE, dammit.* _

Bathroom ablutions completed, he managed somehow to get dressed on autopilot as gray thoughts of  thieves, bullets, hacked computer files and far too much paperwork stomped across his mind in random disorder, scattering any attempts at coherency like panicked sheep.  As he fumbled beneath the edge of his bed with sock-clad toes for his shoes, he sniffed experimentally:  well, at least _something was going right—he could smell breakfast and more importantly….. coffee._

_*Coffee. Need Coffee.  Need caffeine--  Need uurgh?  Uhh?  Shoes?  Where're my shoes?*  That was odd-----_

_*No shoes?  No shoes.  Probably got stolen by goddamned Kaitou Kid, for all I know.  Shoes.  Must've left 'em downstairs.*  He tended to take them up with him to his bedroom after removing them at the door, but no-one was perfect, and he __HAD stumbled in at some ungodly hour, he didn't really remember or care when…..  Shuffling like a Night of the Living Dead castmember, Nakamori made his groggy way down the stairs towards the kitchen._

_*Coffee.  Breakfast.  Aoko?  Right, left her sleeping on the couch with that kitten of hers.  Should be getting ready for school 'bout now……  Coffee…..*_

He had reached the point of half-past-the-first-cup and was well into his breakfast when it registered that the figure who sat quietly drinking her own cup of coffee on the couch was indeed his daughter Aoko, who by all rights should be getting ready for school.  Bleary eyes managed to focus on this fact and channel it towards the more awake parts of the brain.   "Urgh?  Aoko?  You sick or something?"

"No."  Turning a page of whatever she was reading, the Inspector's daughter calmly took another sip.  "Just staying home today; I have some things I need to take care of."  She was already dressed, not in her usual school uniform but in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt; some part of her father's slowly waking grey matter wondered why she seemed to have oil-stains on her hands—it wasn't really like Aoko to be messy.

It wasn't like her to miss a day of school, either—wasn't he supposed to call in about that sort of thing?  Another deep swallow of coffee made things a little clearer; he was.  Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth—

"I already called in and left a message for the office at school that I wouldn't be in; they'll call your office later and confirm it."  She sounded remarkably awake, if maybe a little stressed—but then, this *was* Aoko, after all.  She wouldn't be his daughter if she wasn't stressed.

About then her previous comment caught up with him.  _*Things to take care of?*  Huh…..  "Uhhhh… Aoko?  __What things?"_

"Just… things."  She turned a page again, a slightly strained look of concentration on her face; one rather wild lock of hair fell down into her eyes.   "We had a kind of unusual phone call last night….."

"Rmph?  Who from?"  He shoveled another bite into his mouth, wondering what she was talking about.

"… I'm—not exactly sure.  They wanted to warn you that somebody'd be waiting to kill you at work today."  She turned another page quietly, her eyes on the words before her.

_"MMPHH!!!!!"  _

He choked, trying not to spray breakfast in every direction.  "WHMPH DMPH YUPH TLPH MPH RITF AWMPH?!?"  Swallowing hard, Nakamori took a huge gulp of his coffee (it was too hot, but somehow that got lost in the moment) and swiveled around to stare at his daughter; he was suddenly _quite wide awake, all traces of fog vanishing in a split second.  "—Why the HELL didn't you wake me up?!?  AOKO!!  Thought I'd taught you better than that—"_

At his tone the girl glanced up—and he finally got a proper look at her face.  

_"…Aoko?"_

Inspector Nakamori Ginzo had never been a particularly sentimental man; he was gruff and a bit thick-hided and he knew it.  But he could recognize trauma when he saw it, and he was seeing it now in his daughter's face.  There had been a young officer killed in the department the previous month, during a random drug-bust; what he was looking at now reminded him of how that officer's partner had looked during the funeral.

"Aoko--?"  He stood up, chopsticks in one hand and coffee cup in the other, sloshing a little.  _"What-----"  But she was looking away from him now, the shadowed, reddened eyes shutting everything inside.  A small part of Nakamori noted that her face was sort of—what was the word?  __*drawn,* as if she had been stretched out too thinly to bear and might be about to snap.  "Aoko, what're you—  Wait; just… tell me what they said, okay??"  He tried to gentle his voice a bit for her sake._

She drew a deep breath before speaking, closing the notebook that lay in her lap; distantly her father noticed that it was one of his personal dossiers on criminals, and in particular on Kaitou Kid.  "They said," she answered him distinctly and calmly, "that if you went in to work this morning… you'd die.  They said that there was someone waiting to ambush you—someone in your office, I think."  Aoko closed her eyes, rubbing at the bridge of her nose as if she had a headache.  "You can't go in—"

Rising like the Wrath of God from his chair, Nakamori's moustache bristled as he growled out "The _*hell* I can't—  Who was it?"  At her silent headshake his brows drew down.  "Anonymous?  Goddammit, like I __NEED something else to make this week worse--  You sure you don't know who it was?"_

She was silent for a moment, then glanced fleetingly back at him in a flash of blank, dark eyes.  "I… no.  No, I—don't think I recognized them at all."  Her words seemed to carry an odd silence with them, like the echo you get after a cry of pain.

Leaving his dishes where they lay, he scooped up his keys and wallet and started for the door.  "Shit.  Just… shit.  Never mind—"  He headed towards the door, stepping to one side to toe his shoes on…..

….. which weren't there.  His shoes weren't _there.  In irritation he thumped back up the stairs for another pair._

* * *

Downstairs his daughter waited, a thin crease showing between her eyebrows as she listened to her father's progress above.  She might have seemed quite relaxed, quite at ease, if you didn't notice the way that her hands were shaking as they opened the notebook once more.  She began to read the Inspector's terse account of a heist six months earlier, her thoughts sweeping back in time…

_("Kaito?  What's with you—you're slower than usual.  What's the matter, you—Ouch!  What'd you do to yourself?"  The Inspector's daughter had drawn her breath in sharply at the sight of her friend's wrist as his sleeve caught on the edge of the desk and slid up a bit.  The skin was mottled black and blue with bruises, but the young man just glanced up with his usual wry grin._

_"Nothing worth mentioning—just took a few steps too many on the stairs and whammed myself but good when I fell.  Happens to the best of us—"  He shrugged, then blinked innocently up at her.  "—or the worst."_

_She scowled, thumping down into her desk.  "Can't trust you to take care of yourself for a minute, can I?  You'd better put some ice on that before it swells—"_

_"Jeeze, Aoko, it's just a bruise or two…"  He had rolled his eyes at her concern, which had swiftly begun to escalate into annoyance as he gave her a charming smile that flickered around the edges with teasing.  "Sweet of you to be so worried though—wanna kiss it and make it all better?"_

_The resulting mop-chase had been perhaps a hair slower than usual, but not by much—)_

And now she stared blankly down at the report, reading the words through a haze of exhaustion.  There was a brief mention of a quick scuffle on some stairs, ending when the Phantom Thief made his getaway with the goods.  Nakamori had broken the point of his pencil when describing that bit.

She could understand his reaction.

_*It's funny—I feel sort of numb, I guess…*  It was a little of like the time she had had to have her appendix out when she was nine; she remembered how it had felt, going under the anesthetic… all nice and fuzzy-edged, wrapped in a cloud of not-caring, not-upsetness, not-feeling…_

Kaito had brought her flowers at the hospital.  Of course, he had pulled them out of nowhere, making them appear in a puff of smoke…..  The magic trick had broken through the not-feelingness, just like the sharp edges of pain kept trying to right now.  And she _did feel, really—it just seemed a little distant, a little removed by grey, muted walls of shock and realization.  You could only have hysterics for so long, after all, before you got so tired that they stopped out of sheer lack of energy._

_*You didn't tell me—you've always told me *everything* and you didn't tell me when you started this.  I thought we were--- friends, at least.  More, maybe.  But you didn't tell me.  WHY?*  Under the numbness there was an odd sort of ache, a dull burning….._

When she had hung up the phone the night before, she had been so full of confusion and bewildered betrayal that she had been fairly useless for quite a while; _HOW could Kaito be— him?  __*Really* him?  It just wasn't possible, was it?_

Apparently it was…..  She turned a page, feeling the numbness receding a little more as the heat beneath it grew—it was helping with the exhaustion, burning it away like fog.  But… every time she would try to work out the reasons behind what Kaito seemed to have done (and there had to be reasons, didn't there?  There just _had to be) her feelings would swell, overwhelming rational thought with pain and a feeling like her heart was going to split in two.  Aoko blinked at the writing as the letters blurred a little; she wasn't going to cry again, she wasn't….. she had done enough of that a few hours earlier._

She had felt like a total idiot.

But Nakamori Aoko was *not* an idiot, and neither was Kuroba Kaito; he had to know by now that she was coming, and that she would expect _ANSWERS, lots of them; her fingers clenched on the paper between them, tearing it slightly as the burning beneath the pain grew a little more, banishing the cold shock a bit at a time the way a fire burns away ice._

Kuroba Kaito going to _answer her questions—whether he liked it or not.  That, at least, was certain.  And until he did she would try to forget the little, nagging voice that kept whispering about him being hurt.  If he was hurt, he probably deserved it._

Her father was thudding back down the stairs now, a peculiar look on his face.  He opened his mouth to say something, and she cut him off for the second time that morning.  "I hid them."

"Huh?"

"Your shoes—every single pair of them."  She shrugged, a faint but humorless smile crossing her face as the last of the numbness receded in a thin, grey tide from her thoughts.  "It seemed like a good idea—you can't go to work without shoes, can you?  And I *knew* you'd want to.  You just can't, though.  I'm sorry."  Staring up at her father's slowly-reddening face, she casually added, "And I hid a few other things too….."

"….. like what?"

"Oh….. the phones, including your cellphone….. the sparkplugs from the car….. that sort of thing."  She glanced back up at him again, her smile fading into a stubborn, stony glare he knew only too well.  "You can't go in.  I won't _*let* you."_

Glaring back down again at his daughter in growing outrage, Nakamori sputtered incoherently and set off in fruitless search of the missing items.  His daughter watched him go, thinking of the horrified response his coworkers had given her when she had called in—  had the bomb-squad found anything?  They had to have searched his office by now…..  _*I want to know how you knew, Kaito—I want to know how you found out about people trying to kill my dad.  I want to know EVERYTHING, and I want to know why you didn't tell me in the first place.*_

_*I want to know why you didn't trust me.*_

Oh, right; _*now* she recognized the burning in the depths of her heart:  it was ****__anger.  Good, anger was familiar, anger was something Aoko could cope with; she could deal with it a lot better than she could with pain._

***********************************************************************

In the depths of a little girl's closet, one dark blue eye flickered open and winced a little with pain and confusion.  Without moving, Kuroba Kaito allowed memory to slowly filter back into his brain…..  

_*Mrmphgl…..  Awake.  OW--- shoulder HURTS, side HURTS.*_

_*Not at home-- wherewhat???  Uhhh….. oh.  Oh yeah.  I remember now….. good news and bad news.  Good news:  Found the Pandora Gem, go me!  Bad news:  Aoko knows, so I'm utterly screwed.  Doomsday, basically— gonna have to tell her everything and she'll hate me forever*_

_*Just freaking wonderful; should've stayed asleep. Feel awful anyway—so stiff I can hardly move.  Where's 'Yumi-chan?*_

He could hear the soft rustling of cloth, a slight sliding sound… then footsteps, small and lightweight.  The closet door slid open a bare inch.  "Hei-san?" whispered a tiny mouse-voice; he could see a single sleepy eye peering through the crack.  "Are you okay?"  A shaft of light fell through the opening to lie like a band of fire across the wounded thief's face and he winced again, putting one finger to his lips and nodding a fraction.  The little girl blinked at her guest, then nodded back and slid the door closed again; her footsteps pattered across the floor towards the door and out into the hall as she chirped "Rita-kun, I'm uuuup!  Ohayou!  You better get ready for school….. is breakfast ready?  I'm _hungry, Rita-kun!"_

Noises in the background seemed to indicate that Rita-kun had rejoined the world of the conscious and was groggily being rousted from her couch.  Kaito swallowed and tried to edge a little further back among the shoes and dust-bunnies, hoping desperately that 'Yumi-chan could steer her away from the closet.

He needn't have worried; the little girl chattered her way through breakfast at a fast rate, and Rita-kun left for her classes without a hitch, promising to stop back by during lunch.  In the closet the teenager sighed in relief as the door latched securely behind the cheerful young woman with the American accent; she sounded nice and all, but he doubted that she would accept a Phantom Thief as part of her charge's usual closet décor…..

_*Wonder how long it'll take Aoko to get here?  God, I hope she kept her dad from going in--  Nakamori, you may be an idiot but you're HER dad, and there are enough people without fathers in the world.  'Sides, you're sort of my pet cop; I've known you since I was 'Yumi's age.  Wonder what you'd think of that?*_

Lying supine on the dusty floor with his head resting on a child-sized pair of tennishoes, he sighed and morosely considered the situation.  He hurt like hell (though it didn't seem to be *quite* as bad as it had been the night before—oddly enough any fever seemed to have burned itself out), the only clothes he had were a bloodstained white tuxedo, he wasn't really fit to travel, he was missing school (Kaito wondered what Hakuba would have to say about that; probably something pointed and British… _'Tally ho', maybe?), and last but not least he was going to have to Explain to Aoko-kun._

Life sure bit sometimes, didn't it?

Of course, on the _plus side, he was alive; Nakamori was alive (he hoped); he hadn't been arrested, at least not yet; and he actually had the Pandora Gem.  __*And shouldn't I be smashing that to bits about now, like I swore I would?*  Opening his good hand he peered at it a little muzzily (apparently he had slept with it clutched tight, like a rather expensive security blanket); the stone and metal fittings were cold against his palm, faintly sticky with whatever had been oozing out the night before.__  *Maybe I'd better wait 'til Aoko actually sees it—a good show needs good props, and if this is the last time I ever see her I want to make sure she really understands why I did what I did.  I owe her that.*_

_*Not that I expect it to help…..  She's a good person, an honest person, the daughter of a cop; I'm a thief, no matter how you look at it.  The best thing I can do for her is disappear from her life completely… if I can.  If I can bear to.  Shit.*  He sighed as the leaden depression from the night before settled back into place, slipping the gem into his pocket again; his skin tingled where he had touched it and he found himself unconsciously flexing the fingers of his left arm where it lay taped against his waist.  Funny—it really *didn't* seem to hurt as much as he would expect it to—_

The sound of soft footsteps and something being placed on the tiles preceded the sliding back of the closet door; Kaito flinched at the brilliance of the early sunlight pouring in from the balcony door as his young apprentice plopped herself down crosslegged on the floor opposite him.  "I got you some breakfast," she informed him, settling herself beside the tray she had brought and holding out a plastic cup decorated with the cast of _Sailor Moon.  _

Slowly the young thief managed to sit up, grimacing as his movements made cloth that was currently stuck to his wounds tug and pull painfully; he was weaker than he liked, but he managed a faint smile as he took the cup in his good hand.  The warmth of the liquid inside felt good against his skin; gratefully he took a swallow, smiling a little as he realized that it was warm milk sweetened with something—honey?  Snagging a dish from the tray, he somewhat awkwardly took a bite; apparently Ayumi's idea of breakfast for Phantom Thieves had a lot to do with toast and some sort of oddly-colored breakfast cereal with marshmallows in it—well, good.  He could probably use the sugar.  Besides, he _liked marshmallows._

For several minutes the sunlit room was filled with the sounds of crunching and slurping; Kaito would have found the whole thing to be fairly surreal if he hadn't been so hungry— he felt like someone had hollowed out his stomach and replaced it with a black hole.  _*I'm amazed I can eat, what with almost Certain Doom hanging over my head—but I guess the body doesn't care about stuff like that.  All it wants to do is heal.*   And it was hard not to cheer up (at least a little) with such a charming breakfast companion….._

The marshmallows helped too.

Ayumi drank the last of her own milk (Kaito eyed the small white kitten-face beaming cheerfully from her red plastic cup and shuddered), wiped her mouth with one sleeve and smiled up at her guest.  "You look like you're feeling better, Hei-san; does it still hurt?"  She cocked her rather tousled head to one side, regarding him critically.  "You're still awfully pale, though… and you never told me _how you got hurt.  Did you….."  The little girl hesitated; he could practically see the wheels turning inside her head.  "If you're—are you REALLY Kaitou Kid?  Mitsuhiko-kun says you're a really great thief… but….. the police are always trying to catch you, I know that…..  Did you—"  Her eyes suddenly grew round; "Did you get __shot??"_

_*Ooooboy.  Maybe I should have a sudden relapse?  I don't know to explain this to an adult, much less a little innocent like 'Yumi-chan…*  Swallowing another gulp from his own cup with a throat that suddenly felt a little too tight, Kaito hesitated.  "Well— um, I—"_

_***BZZZZZZZTT!!***  The door-buzzer from the apartment building's main entrance went off; they both jumped, and Ayumi scrambled to her feet to run to the intercom in the front room, leaving one very nervous teenager behind her.  He tensed, feeling jagged lines of pain crawling down his skin as his muscles tightened; __*Aoko?  Oh man…..*  _

He swallowed hard, his last bite of toast sticking in his throat.  _*Kuroba Kaito, it's dawn; present yourself for the Firing Squad.  Or would you prefer hara-kiri?  No?*  With a sinking heart he listened to the distant murmur of a familiar, transmitted voice and Ayumi's response.  __*She'll be up in a minute, huh?  Great.  Ready…. Aim….. FIRE!!! and down he goes…..*_

_*I should be so lucky.*  _

Ayumi padded back into the room.  The child was still wearing her flannel pajamas; a small frown found its way onto her face, and she put her hands onto her hips as she surveyed him.  "You look like you're afraid you're going to get yelled at.  Won't Aoko-san help fix you where you're hurt?  She's your friend, isn't she?"

Kaito nodded, leaning back against the closet wall; he had managed to prop himself up in a more-or-less sitting position, but he still felt fearfully weak.  "Don't your friends yell at you sometimes?"

She nodded, still frowning; pushing her hair back from her face, she wandered over to her dresser and began pulling clothes out.  "A little, maybe….. if they're worried, I guess.  Conan yells sometimes when he tries to stop us from doing something that he thinks'll get us hurt—"  She rolled her eyes, looking remarkably exasperated.  "He can be such a _GROWNUP sometimes."_

Kaito couldn't help himself—a snicker crept out, accompanied by the trace of a grin.  Ayumi stuck her bottom lip out at him.  "Well, he *_can* —sometimes he acts like he knows everything and we don't know anything at all, but I remember lots of times he got stuck or did something silly that got him in trouble, like when he got hit on the head at that castle place, or the time he got shot in the stomach, or—"_

The young thief felt his eyebrows going up; this sounded _*interesting.*  "Really?  Hey, did he ever—"_

_***KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!!***_

He panicked.  _*AAACK!!  Policeman's knock—Ohshitohshitohshit!!  What'll I d-----  Oh.  Oh right.*  Aoko had inherited her father's knock; he had *known* that, of course, but…..  And as Ayumi scooted back into the living room to let her in, somehow the knowledge that he wasn't about to be arrested just didn't help all that much._

There were the sounds of a door opening and closing; a tentative voice greeted the little girl politely.  Kaito sat quite still, staring down at the dregs in the bottom of his _Sailor Moon cup.  A questioning murmur—and then two sets of footsteps came down the hall….._

* * *

_Everything starts somewhere, somewhen.  Later on, when she had a moment to really sit down and __think about it, Aoko would remember the instant when she had rounded the doorway and seen Kaito sitting there, so obviously a world away from the boy she had grown up with; and she would think, __That's when it started.  That's when it all changed._

Of course, if you really went back a bit to the absolute root of things, it had all _actually begun with the phonecall the night before—but somehow, she supposed, things could have come out *differently* at that point.  She might have hung up on him, or not believed what she heard, or been so sleepy that she simply dropped back off and forgotten everything in the way that you forgot dreams…..  No; it was when she walked through the door and simply froze, staring, that began things, in much the way that a minute-hand on a clock begins a new hour when it ticks past the final second of the old._

The taxi ride over had brought her anger down to a fine, even simmer rather than a boil; metaphorically, she was sharpening her claws.  In the background of her mind the young woman did her best to ignore the little niggle of worry that kept poking at her (words like _hurt and __bleeding seemed to have developed a lot of importance); just in case, in her backpack she had brought along the rather sizeable first-aid kit that she kept in the kitchen.  Just in case._

She wished she could have included her mop as well, but explaining _that to the taxi driver might have been awkward.  Ah well, perhaps this 'Ayumi-chan' (whoever she was) would have one she could borrow….._

'Ayumi-chan' turned out to be a bright-looking little girl of eight or so, wearing flannel pajamas and an inquisitive look; she bobbed in a polite schoolgirl's bow as she let her guest in, smiling.  "Hajimemashite, Aoko-san; my name's Yushida Ayumi."  She closed the door behind them both.

Aoko attempted a smile of her own; her face felt oddly tight.  "Um, yoroshiku, Ayumi—I'm Nakamori Aoko."  She glanced swiftly around what seemed to be a fairly normal apartment—there didn't seem to be any wounded felons perched anywhere on the furniture.  "Kaito—?"

The child nodded.  "I guess you're worried about him, aren't you?  I'm glad you came over, Aoko-san, 'cause think he's still hurting an awful lot even though he isn't saying so."  As she led the way down the hall towards what was probably a bedroom, the little girl glanced back over one shoulder and added seriously "Boys are like that—they either whine a lot and act like babies when they get hurt or they don't tell you ANYTHING about it."

Nodding silently, the young woman followed.  She supposed that this was true.

When they reached the door, Ayumi simply walked in, saying "Hei-san?  She's here…."  Aoko hesitated, feeling a very peculiar mixture of emotions:  reluctance, anger, curiosity… and hope— hope that maybe, somehow, it _wasn't all true and he __wasn't really…..  Shaking her head as if dislodging a stinging fly, Nakamori Aoko stepped in through the doorway._

"Hello, Aoko."  He was sitting inside a closet, his face pale and somewhat smeared here and there with dirt; incongruously he seemed to be clutching a _Sailor Moon mug loosely in one hand.  As she quietly approached, she could hear the little girl behind her hop up onto the bed and settle down with a shuffle of pillows._

Slowly and a little numbly the Inspector's daughter took in all the details:  the rather dirty white tuxedo, the silky cloak (mostly hidden by what seemed to be a bathrobe draped over his shoulders), the clumsy arrangement of bandages and tape, the top hat and monocle on the closet floor, the calm poker-face that looked suddenly so alien (and yet so very, very familiar—how had she missed it?  How the _hell had she missed it?) on the features before her._

Hope died swiftly.

"See?" said the child at her back.  "He looks like he hurts; can you fix him?  I tried to last night, but I couldn't get his jacket off.  I'll go get the medicine kit from the bathroom—"

"Don't bother—I've got one with me," said the dark-haired young woman absently, pushing her hair back from her face with rather unsteady hands.  She dropped her backpack onto the floor, noting distantly that it seemed peculiarly heavy; it made an odd sort of thump as it settled.  "How badly are you hurt?"  The question was addressed to Kaito, who blinked.

"Ah—two gunshot wounds, one through the shoulder and the other along the ribs.  I'm pretty sure the bullets aren't still in, but my shirt and coat are pretty well stuck to me—"  He blinked again, some of his composure slipping.  "Why are you…..?  You're going to bandage me just like that?  Without my even asking?"

She shrugged, turning away.  "Ayumi-kun?  Could you please bring me a couple of washcloths and towels, some scissors and a really big bowl of hot water from the sink?"  Aoko's voice was quite calm and rather cool.  The child nodded at her, then slid back down from the bed and bounced through the door towards the kitchen.

* * *

"See, Hei-san?  I _*TOLD* you she'd help….."  The cheerful voice carried down the hall, interspersed with the opening and closing of drawers and the sounds of a tap being turned on.  Kaito sighed, closing his eyes and allowing his head to drop back against the wall for a second._

_*Wish it was that simple, 'Yumi-chan…..*_

The rustling of cloth made his eyes snap back open; Aoko was kneeling before him, staring intently and expressionlessly into his face.  Kaito's immediate instinct was to shrink back, but the faint jerk of movement he made caused his face to whiten and an involuntary gasp to slip out.  "So—aren't you going to ask?"  He said faintly, wiping at his forehead with his good hand.

"Ask what?"  Her voice was so quiet—not like her usual shouts and caterwaulings when she was angry.  And she _*WAS* angry, he could practically feel it radiating like steam from her skin.  "Ask you why you're Kaitou Kid?  Ask you why you rob people?"  The words lost a little of their calmness as they speeded up.  "Ask you why you never told me about this?  Ask you why you never TRUSTED me?  Little things like that?  Are *those* the questions you think I should ask, Kaito??"_

Her dark eyes glittered as she glared at him, fire beginning to rage in hot coals just below the surface.  "No… no, I don't think I'm going to ask you _any of those questions.  Want to know why not, Kaito?"_

He shifted again nervously, ignoring the jolt of pain from his wounds and staring her straight in the face; he couldn't back down now.  "Okay…  Why not?"

"Because you are going to **_tell me everything right now__.  And I do mean_**** *EVERYTHING.*  Or Else."**

Kaito winced again from the fierceness in her voice—she didn't sound cold _now, not in the least; and he didn't think the 'or else' she was referring to had anything to do with calling the cops.  "Do you hate me for this, Aoko?" he asked quietly, trying to keep his own voice steady and not to burst out with what he really wanted to say:__ *Please don't say yes, don't hate me, don't—*_

She closed her eyes and sat back on her heels; a tremor seemed to flicker its way through her as she spoke between gritted teeth.  "I—hate _*Kaitou Kid;*  I'm not sure how I feel about ****__you yet."_

_*--please don't say yes, please don't-----  Oh.*_

_*Oh.*_

And as Ayumi came back into the room with a pile of terrycloth and other items, he supposed that that would just have to do for the moment.

* * *

The basin of hot tap-water sloshed slightly as Yushida Ayumi sat it down onto the floor beside her two guests; with utter disregard for the small puddle the girl plopped down crosslegged next to them.  Still clutching her stack of washcloths and towels, she gingerly offered Aoko the scissors.  "I got the really sharp ones from my 'Kaa-san's sewing stuff; are you going to have to cut his shirt off?"  She cocked her head to one side, watching in interest and concern as the young woman carefully slid her father's bathrobe from Hei-san's shoulders.  "That's what they do on all the police shows on TV when somebody gets shot….."

Aoko nodded, glancing at her with a slightly strained smile of thanks as she snipped away at tape and bandages.  "Yes I am, and he's going to have to just sit still and quiet for a few minutes while I do it.  _*Right,* Kaito?"  _

She fixed Ayumi's teacher with a glare; he swallowed, slumping a little as she slid one of the scissor-blades inside his sleeve.  "First you want me to tell you everything, then you—OW!  Watch it!--- want me to shut up…..  Agh!!  Aoko_owowOW--!!"  He hissed in pain as a tug from the young woman peeled back the sleeve, showing long runnels of stains down the length of his arm._

Hei-san clenched his eyes shut as he braced himself against the closet door-frame, biting his lip hard; he looked awfully pale, and Ayumi wondered briefly if it was more because his friend had been yelling at him than because he was hurting (they had tried to be quiet, she could tell that, but she had been able to hear them all the way down the hall.  Aoko-san's voice was sort of loud).  The child's forehead wrinkled as her teacher gritted his teeth; the stains on his jacket and shirt looked a LOT bigger and worse than they had in the dark the night before, as bad as Conan-kun's had when he had gotten shot—  

She darted a look at Aoko-san's face and her eyes widened a little at the set, almost scary look she found there.  Aoko-san looked like _*she* was the one who was hurting…..  "He'll be okay, won't he?"  The words slipped out before she knew it, and she bit her own lip._

The young woman carefully eased the tattered remnants of Hei-san's jacket away from his shoulder, ignoring his stifled exclamation and placing a soaked washcloth across the stained shirt beneath; holding it in place, she nodded grimly.  "He'll be fine, I think—I'm not a doctor, but I think I just need to get all this off him and clean the wound."  A half-smile crossed her face for a second, making her look much prettier than the scary look had.  "My dad—he got shot once in the leg when I was twelve, and he was a _much worse baby about having his bandages changed.  I had to do it for him, because if he started bleeding you'd think he was dying—"  She seemed to start slightly then, stopping in mid-sentence with a confused look on her face.  Her hands continued what they were doing, however, as they carefully snipped away at the dark blue cloth glued to Hei-san's ribs._

"I—remember that—  I came over one time when you were changing them upstairs, and---"  The young man paused to bite back what sounded like an interesting swearword; "—and it sounded like you were killing him.  Thought he—Ow, DAMMIT, Aoko!  Leave me a *little* hide, will you?—I thought he had maybe complained about--- aaaOWCH!!!—about your cooking one time too many…"  Beads of sweat were gathering along Hei-san's forehead; Ayumi shivered in sympathy.

"I'm a *GOOD* cook, and you very well know it--- and stop swearing, Kaito, or I'll—"

"—you'll what?"  He laughed; it sounded a little funny to the gradeschooler's ears.  _"Shoot me?  Been there, done that, got the—"_

"Bullet holes, right.  I can see that."  She peeled off another strip of cloth from his side, baring flushed and angrily-scored skin as Ayumi's teacher gasped in pain.  "Idiot.  Keep it up and I _*will* give you something to complain about—"_

The little girl hesitated, then scooted up a little and reached out to touch Aoko's shoulder; the young woman paused, a soaked and reddened cloth in her hand.  "What is it, Ayumi?"

"Ummmm….."  She didn't want to be rude, but—  "Ummm, Aoko-san?  Could you _PLEASE not yell at Hei—I mean, at Kaito-san, just for a little while?  If you keep yelling at him he can't tell us about why he's Kaitou Kid.  And…"  She smiled tentatively at her two guests.  "… he *promised* me last night he'd tell me, and you said he had to tell you, and he could tell both of us while you bandage him so he doesn't have to think about being bandaged."  She sat back again, looking hopeful.  "And then you can yell at him later, okay?"_

The young woman blinked at her for a second; then one side of her mouth twitched slightly.  "That… sounds like a good arrangement to me.  _Well, Kaito-kun?"  Aoko-san's voice sounded sort of *dangerous,* as if she were a bomb that just might go off any second.  Apparently Hei-san thought so too, since he swallowed hard and nodded._

"Fine, okay.  Ah, 'Yumi-chan?  Sorry 'bout the swearing….."

She giggled.  "That's okay.  Can I play with your hat while you're talking?"  She wriggled a little, impatiently, as the young woman beside her applied another soaked cloth.

"Not the—OW!!—hat, no—it's got a few gadgets in it that are too dangerous.  But—oh; here… can you reach around behind me, under my jacket on the right?  Not the smaller compartments, though… just the big one right by the seam; it's safe."  He craned his head sideways to watch as the little girl scooted around to search; small hands discovered a series of pockets in the coat's cloth, pulling out something that glittered like diamonds in the morning sunlight…..

_"OOOOOH!!!"  Ayumi squealed in delight at what, actually, DID seem to be diamonds—__real diamonds, all shaped into flowers and set into a crown.  She had never seen anything like it in her *life,* and she immediately bounced to her feet and to the mirror on her dresser to try it on._

Behind her she heard Aoko-san drop her washcloth with a wet _*splat.*  "Are you __crazy?!?" hissed the teenager furiously.  "You __*stole* that, didn't you?  You actually went and __stole it and now you're letting a little girl try it on--  Kaito, what the HELL do you think you're doing?  It's __stolen property— she'll get her fingerprints all over it and—"_

"That's right," said Hei-san flatly.  "It's stolen property, I stole it, and I'm a thief.  That's what I *do,* Aoko—I _steal things.  And it'll get returned later, just like everything __else I've stolen… well, except for the baseball, but I had a good reason for that one.  Dammit, Aoko, I'm not an amateur!  D'you really think I'd return it with any prints on it?  If I was THAT stupid your dad would've caught me ages ago!"  He laughed, and Ayumi paused in adjusting the sparkling piece of jewelry; there was that funny note in his laughter again, almost a sort of bitterness, a terrible sadness…_

How could a person sound so sad when they were laughing?

But Conan sounded that way sometimes too; Ayumi guessed it had to do with keeping secrets inside.  

They were yelling at each other again, their voices growing sharper and louder.  "Maybe you SHOULD have been caught—then you wouldn't have blood all over the place and a couple of holes in your—"

"Oh right, instead I'd be in a cell someplace awaiting trial; what a wonderful way to finish up high school.  'Kuroba Kaito, Student Most Likely To End Up On Interpol's Most-Wanted List—Oh Wait, He's Already There'.  Do you suppose I could graduate college with a major in Prison Escapes 101?  Hey, maybe I could teach classes—"  There was that unhappy laughter again, ending in a pained gasp.  _"—SHIT, this hurts—"_

"—and whose fault is _that?  And __QUIT SWEARING!  If you'd just tried to think with your __brain instead of—"_

Okay, that was enough; they were acting like total *_babies* now.  Smoothing her hair into place the little girl turned back around and glared at them both.  **"STOPPITTT!!!"**_

Caught in the act, the so-called adults froze in place with their mouths open, their angry words cut off in mid-tirade.  Ayumi stomped one foot (which made her new hair ornament slide sideways, but she didn't care about that); "You SAID you wouldn't yell at him—" that was for Aoko-san; "—and YOU said you'd tell us why you steal stuff."  She crossed her arms and loomed over them with every centimeter of her small height.  "Instead you're BOTH ACTING LIKE BAKAS and *nobody's* explaining *anything!!!*"  Angry tears started up at the corner or her eyes; she wiped them away impatiently, stomping her foot again.

Guiltily the pair before her glanced at each other, then dropped their eyes.  Aoko-san drew a deep breath and studied the floor as she spoke.  "I'm sorry, Ayumi… I'm just— this is sort of a shock for me, and….."  Her voice trailed off as she picked up the soggy washcloth she had dropped, wiping up the splatters.

Hei-san picked up where she had left off, continuing the sentence with the ease of long familiarity.  "… and we're both *used* to squabbling with each other; it's easier than—well, practically _anything, including explanations."  He darted a somewhat sheepish glance at the woman beside him.  "Um, I'm sorry too…. both of you."  A small grin crept out of hiding.  "I never claimed to be very bright—just clever, y'know?  Well, and good-looking, and stylish, and—OW!"_

Aoko-san had removed another wet cloth from his shoulder, pulling the last of shreds of tattered shirt-material away and finally baring the full extent of the damage.  _"JEEZE, Aoko, *warn* a guy when you're going to—__aagh!!—"  He clamped his mouth shut, the color draining from his skin; the fingers that sponged his shoulder so gently trembled a little as scarlet began to ooze from the wound again._

"I'm sorry too."  Ayumi could barely hear the young woman's words as she stared at the wound; it looked _HORRIBLE, all ragged and sort of torn—she had always thought bullets just made holes in people, not great big rips.  In the past year or so she had seen a few people with bullet-holes in them, but never without their shirts—and the left side of Hei-san's shirt was now a pile of cut-up cloth lying on the floor.___

_*Oooooooh……*  She gulped.  It had to hurt an *awful* lot—  "Do… do you need the medicine kit now?"  The gradeschooler tried to keep her voice from quavering; Aoko-san nodded absently, wringing out the last washcloth and rinsing it in the water (now an ugly red, full of floating bits of shirt-material and other stuff that Ayumi didn't want to think about)._

"If you could get me some fresh clothes and some more warm water, that'd be good too—"  Thankfully the little girl scooped up the bowl (sloshing it again) and headed to the bathroom closet for more towels; behind her she could hear her two guests' voices saying something that might have been apologies.  At least it _sounded like apologies… and anyway, they weren't yelling.  That was good._

That was a start.

* * *

The silence that fell between Kaito and Aoko was an awkward one; but, the young thief thought to himself, it was a damn sight better than all that shouting.  Easier on the nerves, too.

He closed his eyes and allowed his head to fall tiredly back against the closet doorframe; "Note to self:  Never, _never get shot again," he muttered as his shoulder gave a particularly vicious throb.  The washcloth that had so gently sponged away the dried blood was cool by now, and as hot pain bloomed again where the bullet had struck he swallowed another exclamation and did his best to ignore it.  _

Aoko carefully placed the last clean cloth across the wound, and it occurred to him that this was probably the most physical contact that they had had since they were kids.  _*It's not quite the sort of contact I've had in mind lately, but I guess it'll have to do, won't it?  Baka; keep your thoughts on the present and not on daydreams.*   A faint, rather rueful grin tried to find its way to his face, but he squashed it down firmly._

(But somewhere in the back of his mind a small, gleeful voice wondered when the last time she had seen him without a shirt had been, even partially; probably not since two summers past, when they had gone swimming at the local pool.  He wondered what she was thinking of seeing him _now; all those roof-hops and the hang-gliding had added quite a bit of muscle tone...)_

"Kaito?"  Her voice was a lot quieter than usual; she almost sounded like a nice, normal girl and not the usual mop-wielding valkyrie that he knew and loved—

_(*Hmmmmm,* he mused, __*that last word had an *echo* to it, didn't it?  Interesting.  'Course, it's not like the thought hasn't crossed my mind before…*)  "Hmmm?"_

"Are you all right?"

He snorted involuntarily.  "My therapist says it's all a phase and should pass soon," he muttered, but the joke was halfhearted at best.  Kaito opened his eyes again and blinked up at Aoko wearily.  "Fine, just… spiffy."  A tired note of sarcasm warred with his  attempt at cheerfulness.  "Why, don't I look it?"

She sat back on her heels, still clutching the now-scarlet washcloth; droplets of red had spattered her sweatshirt here and there, darkening her cuffs and spotting the denim of her jeans.  "Actually, no; you're pale as a ghost and I don't know _what you're going to do about missing school…..  You can't go in like this tomorrow."  Aoko scowled a little, the familiar expression settling on her face in a way that was almost as reassuring as a smile.  "And don't tell me your mom called in for you—"_

_*Oh, right… better take care of that right now.*  "What—ow!—time is it, anyway?"  He shifted painfully, sitting a little more upright.  At that angle he could just make out Ayumi's bedside clock… "Almost nine-thirty… later than I thought.  Do you have your cellphone on you?"  In answer she passed it over silently, her scowl deepening in puzzlement._

Flashing a tired-but-still-very-Kaito (or Kid) grin her way, he flipped it open.  "Wanna see a magic trick?"  She crossed her arms, the scowl beginning to turn dangerous; _*Hey, you wouldn't hit a wounded man, would you?* he thought hopefully (and quite possibly inaccurately, all things considered.)  Clearing his throat as he dialed their school's office-number, he adjusted this and that and concentrated….._

_***bzzzt***bzzzt***bzz---  "__Ekoda__High School__, Administration….."_

"Ah, konnichiwa—this is Kuroba Hikarue… my son Kaito's a student with you there, but I'm afraid he won't be coming in today—"  Grinning as he spoke in flawless imitation of his mother's voice, the young thief watched Aoko's jaw drop and her eyebrows climb; in the bedroom's doorway, Ayumi buried her face in the pile of towels she was carrying to muffle her giggles.

_"Ah, Kuroba-san!  We tried to reach you earlier—is your son ill?"  The office clerk on the other end of the line sounded bored but dutiful; faintly he could catch the shuffling sounds of paper.  No doubt this call was tidying up a loose end for them—well, good; no reason he couldn't make someone's day a little easier._

"Unfortunately he is—just something passing, I'm sure, though if he gets worse I'll take him into a clinic for a checkup.  Will you be needing me to drop a note by, or will this call do?"  Kaito conscientiously added on a few details regarding his student I.D. number and class schedule, making certain to flavor everything with *just* the right note of tired concern.  Aoko was staring openly by now, eyes nearly popping at the feminine tones and diction; she shook her head hard, fighting back what looked suspiciously like a very unwilling laugh.

_"The call will do for now, but if you could either send a note with him when he comes in or possibly drop one by later--?  Arigato, Kuroba-san, we'll check him off as 'excused.'  Jaa ne…."_

"Jaa….."  He smirked and hit the 'end' button on the cellphone, handing it back; Aoko took it in one rather limp hand, her eyes still wide and startled.  "Well?"  he demanded of his audience, feeling somewhat better than he had all morning; "How'd you like the trick?"

_*If you could just see your face, Aoko-kun…..*_

Slowly Aoko took the bundle of terrycloth from the still-giggling Ayumi's arms, settling back crosslegged again.  "Is that….. have you done that sort of thing to trick my father before--?  I've heard him complaining about—about Kid misleading his men on the radio—"  Ayumi scurried back out towards the bathroom to get the bowl of water, not wanting to miss a thing.

"Yup."  He chuckled, wiping away a trickle of sweat from his hairline with his good arm.  "It's a lot more efficient than running from them or having to do something more dangerous to get 'em off my trail…..  Aoko?  Your dad—he's okay, isn't he?  You DID keep him from going in this morning--?"  A slight thread of worry dampened his satisfaction at the ruse he had just pulled, but her nod reassured him; with a relieved sigh, he allowed his head to fall back again.  _"Good.  You have *no* idea how glad I am to hear that….."_

Ayumi skidded at a comically fast hop across the floor, arms full; a small wave from the bowl she was carrying sloshed over the rim, spattering her teacher with a healthy splash of warm water.  "Hey—'Yumi-chan, I wasn't expecting a _bath, y'know—" he protested as droplets ran down the bare skin of his neck and dripped from his hair.  _

The child sat the basin down with an apologetic giggle, settling beside her other guest in unconscious crosslegged mimicry.   She regarded them both, her head cocked slightly to one side with the diamond crown she still wore slanting just a touch askew.  "Hei-san?  _NOW are you going to explain?  Oh, and you need your medicine kit, right, Aoko-san?"   The backpack containing the kit was just within reach of her short arms, and she leaned far over to pull it by one strap.  "It's—__heavy—"   With a sharp tug it slid across the floor, and she unzipped it—_

and froze—

_"Meeee(yawn)owww?  Yow?__ ….. YOW__wow??"_

_*Oh NO.  Somebody Up There really, really hates __me.__*  "Aoko?  WHY did you bring your kitten with you?  I'd have understood it if you brought your mop, but….. a kitten?"  Kaito's own eyebrows were climbing into his hairline now; an ecstatic Ayumi was enthusiastically hauling the white furball out of the backpack, and he wondered if he should warn her—_

_"Mew?"_

"Awwwwwww!!!  He's so CUUUUUTE!!!  He looks *just* like HelloKitty!!!"  The little girl hugged the Kitten From Hell with all her might; it made a sort of muffled squeak, and Kaito suppressed a shudder of horror.

_"purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr….."_

--nahhh.  No need to warn her, apparently; small children did not appear to be on the fiend's list of acceptable chew-toys, unlike himself and the majority of the known world.  One evil, crystalline blue eye glared balefully at Kaito from over Ayumi's flannel-clad shoulder as a pink nose twitched distastefully in his direction.  "Um, Aoko?  The kitten?  Why?---  Errr, hello?  Hello, _Aoko?  Earth to Aoko—"  He waved his good hand in front of her eyes._

The Inspector's daughter jumped slightly, seeming to shake herself out of a daze.  "I… could have _*sworn* that I left him at home--- I had to get him out of my backpack twice, but he—I zipped it shut, I know I did!  How in the __world---"  Slowly she reached out a hand and smoothed it across the kitten's fluffy head; it purred even harder, eyes closing in bliss.  "Oh well…..  Ayumi?  This is Spot.  Spot, meet Ayumi—"_

The little girl allowed the kitten to slip down and curl up in her lap, a look of delight on her pink-cheeked face.  "Hajimemashite, Spot-chan!  Ooooh, look, he likes to cuddle….."  Thoroughly absorbed, the child in the flannel pajamas and diamond tiara bent over her new friend and stroked the soft white fur.  Kaito had to grin at the total and utter incongruity of the sight, and he caught a matching grin on Aoko's face before she reached to snap open the first aid kit.  

His smile faded, however, at what lay within…..

Bandages, tape, hydrogen peroxide, swabs, ointments….. ow.  Ow, ow, ow.  He gritted his teeth.

"Why don't you start explaining?" suggested Aoko, pulling out a strip of tape in a businesslike manner.  A hint of her previous strain and anger showed on her face for a moment and quivered in her voice.  "Or… would you rather I bandage you _*first?*"  A certain sharp-edged note behind the words suggested that this option would not prove comfortable at all._

_*Man, talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place…*  "Fine, okay."  He sighed, watching as she began unwrapping pads of gauze.  "Aoko?  One thing, first—it's sort of important that you understand this….."_

She tensed, raising her eyes to his; the paper around the gauze ripped between her fingers.  "What?"

Kaito met her gaze evenly.  _"I'm not ashamed of what I'm doing.  You've known me most of my life, Aoko; do you *really* think I'd do this sort of thing without a good reason?  __*Really?* "  He stared her down; the young woman flushed angrily, her lips tightening into a thin line.  "I mean, think about it— did I ever do anything really dishonest or criminal while we were growing up?  I'm not much of a role model—" (and he shot a slightly guilty sideways glance at Ayumi, who looked puzzled), "—but I'm not __that bad.  And if you suddenly took up burglary or carjacking or—I dunno, mugging people in alleys or something—I'd be pretty damned sure you had a good reason behind it…"_

Aoko's lower lip stuck out, making her look remarkably like Ayumi in a snit.  "So what's your point?" she growled, tearing off a few more strips of tape and lining them up along the edge of the first aid kit.

The young thief shrugged his good shoulder, then bit off a curse as the movement pulled at muscles that emphatically did not want to move.  "Just….. _*listen* to me before you make any judgments, okay?"  He offered her a rather lopsided smile.  "Aoko…..  I won't deny that being Kid's been a blast a lot of the time, and there's parts of it I've really enjoyed—but, y'know, I had to learn how to break the law and do things that you're always told are __bad.  Lying to people, stealing….. getting away with things."  Kaito laughed briefly; then the humor in his face slid away into a kind of wistfulness.  "Sometimes it would've been so __easy to fail, to just let your dad or Hakuba or that Kudo guy catch me—to just __give up.  And sometimes I was so tired that that sounded pretty damned tempting, even though I'd end up in jail and my mom'd be in trouble since I'm still at home and all.  But—"  He hesitated._

"But what, Hei-san?"  They both jumped—each had forgotten about Ayumi; the little girl still sat crosslegged beside them, stroking the kitten that snoozed in fuzzy slumber across her lap.  Her clear eyes were fixed on his face, full of questions and curiosity….. and empty of judgment.  To her, he was Hei-san first before he was anything else—and she trusted Hei-san.

"Um…. But, well….."  Kaito looked a little uncertain.  "I guess I'd better start at the beginning."

The child rolled her eyes and heaved a theatrical sigh.  "THAT'S what we've been TELLING you to do….."  She and Aoko shared an exasperated look between them, then fixed their eyes unblinkingly on the wounded thief; he gulped.

"And I'll need you to lean forward a little—the bandages will have to go around and back of your shoulder a bit."  The young woman slid over to sit directly beside Kaito, bringing the kit with her.  "You can talk while I work…"

"Um.  Right."  He looked away as she began to unscrew the lid of the hydrogen peroxide.  "Let's see…..  uh, maybe we could start with a little history lesson?-----  OW!  _Jeeze, that's *cold!!*"  _

The Inspector's daughter had just poured a little of the liquid onto the wound; she carefully swabbed the long blaze across his ribs with a soaked cottonball.  "Hold still and talk."

"………………….."  Kaito sighed.

"Okay, it's like this—and 'Yumi-chan?  If you don't understand something, just ask, okay?---  The thing is, there've been phantom thieves, 'kaitous', around for a long time.  Back when the British came in and took over in the 1800's they really started showing up, and they've been around one way or another ever since."  He leaned forward a little more, gritting his teeth as careful hands dabbed at the damage just above his shoulderblade.

"If—aaaaowch!--- if you wanted to embarrass some High-and-Mighty rich type, *especially* somebody in charge, you might think of hiring a thief that was good enough to not only sneak onto their property and steal something valuable BUT was *also* good enough to do it really, really publicly—y'know, so the High-and-Mighty guy'd lose face.  And to make matters even worse, you could get the thief to return what they stole in some way that smacked the owner right in the nose…..  That was the sort of thing a kaitou did. "  

He was silent for a moment, thinking hard.  Stealing a glance at Aoko's face, he wondered a little at her closed, absorbed expression and the way her fingers moved so gently against his bare skin.  Despite all his protests her touch was so light, almost delicate….. and, Kaito thought to himself with a nervous internal grin, if things weren't _hurting so much it'd really feel sort of… ummm….. well, never mind __that or he'd loose his train of thought entirely.  _

Lately she had been doing things like that to him a *lot.*

_*Uhhh… where was I?  Oh yeah.  History—nice safe topic.  Pay attention, class…*_

"A phantom thief didn't just steal valuables; they stole prestige, security, public opinion…..  A lot of merchants hired kaitous to discredit their rivals.  I mean, if you had a cargo you wanted shipped to another port, you'd steer away from somebody who had just had their family jewels—errrr, I mean, a family heirloom stolen from their own treasury."  Kaito swallowed hard as ointment was slowly squeezed from a tube onto the worst part of the wound and tried to ignore the sensation.

"I… uh…..  Anyway, kaitous never really died out—there are still a few around; most of the modern ones deal in computer hacking and commercial espionage.  There's nothing like seeing a product that *you* were just hyping to your stockholders show up on the market under somebody else's logo, two weeks before production…..  Hackers, data pirates, that sort of thing; the more visible ones in Japan stem from the kaitous."  Ayumi was looking more than a little puzzled by now, but she said nothing.

Aoko soaked another cottonball and moved lower, blotting at the painful gash across his ribs.  "Lean forward a little—good.  And quit _stalling….."  There was a growl of impatience in her voice.  "How does all of this relate to you?"  The Inspector's daughter snipped a piece of gauze in half with the scissors; the little girl beside her scooped up the tag-end and began to dangle it in front of Spot, who lazily swiped at it with a paw for a second or two before losing interest._

Kaito swallowed again; this was the Big Part.

"Well…..  there've always been a few _*traditional* kaitous around, the sort you could hire to steal things besides computer files….."_

She quirked an eyebrow in his direction; the eye beneath it glittered, sharp as any stiletto and twice as dangerous.  "Things like jewels?"

"Right."

"….. and…..?"  Her hands smoothed a piece of tape in place.

"My dad was one."

Her hands went very still; Aoko's face visibly paled.  "Your— your _dad was a…?  But he—!!"  _

Ayumi made an inquiring noise, pushing the tiara up from where it had been doing a slow slide towards her nose.  "You said your dad died when you were a little older than me, didn't you?  I remember….."  The young voice was subdued.  Carefully she removed her headgear; tiny rainbows refracted across Spot's fur and her own troubled face and covering them both with diminutive rainbows as the diamonds threw back the light from the balcony.  "It made you unhappy to talk about it.  But you said he was a magician, not a thief… didn't you?"  Her small hands stroked the light-dappled kitten, who yawned and went back to his nap.

Kaito nodded, then wished he hadn't as the tape on his skin pulled.  He was quite strongly aware that Aoko still had her hands resting on him, one each to either side of where he had been bandaged; they were very warm.  The young woman seemed to be almost frozen in place, and he turned to look back at her.  "Aoko?"

She whispered:  "…I… liked your dad a lot.  He was there when mine--- when mine was out chasing criminals.  He used to do tricks for me, and make me laugh….."  Fierce eyes glared into his as her fingers tightened a little, and he let out a grunt of protest.  "How could he have been a thief?  He was a _*good* man!" she demanded, her voice cracking._

From scarcely a foot and a half away Kaito's dark blue eyes stared directly back at hers, full of memories and old sorrow.  "That's right, he was.  A very good man…  Remember that, okay, Aoko?  Remember that while you listen to the rest of it." 

"B-but he— Kaito, how _COULD he have been—he, he was always so—"_

"Just LISTEN."

She shut up.  In the lap of the little girl beside her, Spot cracked open one watchful eye.

"I don't know much about the family history, just the little scraps I've found in my dad's notes since I started all this.  But as far as I can tell he was trained by *his* father, and planned on training *me* when I was ten."  Kaito shrugged a painful, one-shouldered shrug as he scratched at his head with his good hand.  "I mean, he'd already taught me a lot of stuff—d'you remember how I got your back door open all those times you locked yourself out?  I could pick a fairly simple lock by the time I was seven.  And there was all that stuff on disguises, on how to watch people and what to look for when you wanted to imitate somebody…..  A lot of it's natural ability, but some of what I use was taught to me by my dad, plain and simple."  A wry smile flickered in his eyes and he shook his head.  "I even found out a bit about my mom's family—seems they had a couple of phantom thieves in the woodwork way back as well… kind of weird, isn't it?"

"But….. stealing is _*wrong,* isn't it?  Hei-san?  I learned that when I was really little."  Ayumi's words were tinged with confusion and more than a little dismay; she pulled Spot up into a hug, her small arms tightening around the kitten and producing a rather surprised __"Mrrrrmmph!" sound._

Kaito cocked an eyebrow at her in amusement.  "So's hiding in trees and eavesdropping on people, _especially your friends….. but that didn't keep *somebody* from __doing it, now did it?"  To Aoko's astonishment the little girl blushed deeply and squirmed a little; the feline in her lap let out a protesting __"YOWwow!" and scrambled free, bounding halfway across the bedroom floor to disappear beneath Ayumi's bed._

The child stuck her lower lip out.  "That's not NEARLY as bad as stealing stuff… Stealing stuff can get you put in _jail.  And besides," (she glared up at her teacher) "detectives catch thiefs, um, I mean 'thieves', and I do detective stuff.  And what about Conan-kun?  HE could catch you….."  _

Aoko blinked at Ayumi in puzzlement as she picked up the tape and scissors again.  "'Detective stuff'?  And who's Conan-kun?"

Kaito chuckled, flinching slightly as ointment was applied to the long gash across his ribs.  "She belongs to a sort of detective-club; a pretty bright little bunch of kids, too, if you ask me.  Conan-kun… he's one of them, the smartest; your dad's met him before, maybe—he lives with Mouri Kogoro, that private detective that makes the news now and then.  You know, the one who supposedly solves crimes in a trance?"  He met Ayumi's eyes with a slightly warning look and she nodded, silently agreeing that the less said about Conan the better.

A long strip of gauze was laid carefully in place.  "Right….. and yes, Ayumi, stealing IS wrong, no matter why you do it."  The young woman glared at her patient.  "Just because your grandfather did it and your father did it doesn't make it right—OR intelligent."

A flicker of anger showed briefly in Kaito's eyes.  "Fine.  _Yes, it's wrong; if you steal stuff for yourself, you hurt people…  And maybe that's why my dad specialized in jobs where he was hired by people who had __*already* been stolen from; they paid him to get their stuff back."  He sighed, a line appearing between his brows.  "Okay, so maybe he didn't do that every time—he had to make a living somehow, and no matter how famous he was most stage gigs just don't pay that wonderfully."  Kaito gave Aoko a faint, crooked grin; "Hey, even Phantom Thieves have car payments, y'know?"_

She snorted (sounding remarkably like her father just for a second) as she applied the last strip of tape.   "So..… what went wrong?"

The grin faded and the young thief's eyes went rather bleak.  "One of the main differences between a traditional kaitou and an ordinary thief is that a kaitou's usually hired by someone else to steal, though not always—and he did well enough to be more than a bit picky about his clients and targets.  As far as I can tell from what I've learned, he was approached by some sort of—organization?—that offered him a contract regarding finding a particular jewel.  Not just any jewel, though… a very special one:  the Pandora Gem."

Ayumi's eyes widened, astonished.  "The one you—" but Kaito held up a finger to his lips; bouncing a little in her excitement, the child subsided and allowed him to continue.

"Problem was, they were lacking in a little information regarding the whereabouts of their target; not only did they not know *where* it was, they didn't know what it *looked* like either.  It was supposed to be a gem inside another gem, and the only way you knew you had the right one was to hold it up under the rays of the moon—and it would glow."  There was a faraway look in the young man's face for a moment; he shot Aoko another grin as she busied herself with cleaning up the debris around them.  "Sounds like a bunch of pipe dreams, doesn't it?  Wait'll you hear what _else the Pandora Gem was supposed to do….."  _

(From beneath the bed a pair of blue eyes peered out; narrowing, they began to track the movements of Aoko's hands as she gathered scraps of cloth and wiped up droplets…..)

Kaito paused for a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing; he carefully flexed just the slightest bit, wiggling the fingers of his left hand.  "Stiff—but they're working," he muttered.  His eyes softened as he watched Aoko's hands gathering the tattered remnants of his shirt; the majority of his jacket and the right side of his shirt were still intact and hanging on him, but he'd need some new clothes before he went anywhere.  

(The blue eyes focused tightly on the girl's movements as soft white paws carried the feline beneath the bed closer and closer, readying for the attack…..)

Aoko scooped up a stray bit of cloth, then absentmindedly wiped at the floor beneath it with her cloth.  "Get on with it, would you?  So what was this mythical gem supposed to be able to _do that made them want it so badly?"  _

(Almost there…..  White hindquarters waggled in preparation for a pounce--)

"Oh, nothing _much….."  The young thief made a fist and rotated his forearm, grimacing.  "Just make you immortal, that's all."  _

Aoko nearly dropped the cloth she was wiping with; her dark brows drew down, and she opened her mouth—  and a furry mass of feline predatory instinct leaped out from beneath the bed to clasp pink-padded paws around her wrist.  She yelped involuntarily, then caught up her pet and hugged it close; Spot purred complacently, throwing a narrow-eyed _'Get Lost' look at the only other male in the room, who rolled his eyes and continued with his tale as Ayumi giggled….._

"I know, I know; sounds like a bunch of bullsh—uhm, a bunch of craziness to me, too… but these guys _believed it, or whoever was in charge did at any rate.  So they hired my dad to keep stealing particular gems and testing them until he stole the right one."  Kaito sighed, the bleakness returning to his eyes._

"It probably sounded like a dream come true at first—they gave him some basic info on what to look for, but beyond that they apparently didn't care what he did with any gems that weren't the right one; they paid him a fee for each theft, even if what he stole turned out to be normal."   

"So he went through a largish handful of targets, stealing them, checking 'em out and returning them in some pretty interesting ways;" the bleak look faded a little into professional appreciation as he chuckled softly.  "I wish you could read his notes on the one he sent back in the middle of a fast-food delivery of Beef Chow Mein.  The poor owner almost choked on it.  And then there was the note in the fortune cookie….."  

(Curled in Aoko's lap, Spot made what sounded distinctly like an appreciative snort; the young thief blinked at him, then dismissed the noise as coincidental.  Cats, after all, did _not snort.)_

Turning serious again, Kaito tugged at the remains of his jacket and shirt, carefully easing them off.  "Guess these aren't much use anymore, are they?..... Anyway, after a while Dad got to wondering about his 'employers' and decided to do a bit of detective work on them—it turned out that they were a bunch of murdering scumbags that'd do damn near _*anything* to get what they wanted.  Think of one of the Yakuza-type gangs, only with a little more organization and secrecy; that's who had hired them.  So…"  _

The fingers of his right hand tightened on the bundle of cloth in his lap for a second before he began rummaging through pockets both normal and hidden in the garment.  "…so he told 'em the deal was off, that he wasn't interested in working for murderers.  Being a thief is one thing—but a killer, that's something else entirely.  We _do have our standards."  He placed a handful of random objects from various compartments on the floor; the Inspector's daughter frowned down at them (fighting back a distinct desire to reach out and touch)—small metal spheres, matt-black ovoids, bits of wire, a tiny toolkit, lockpicks, a very peculiar-looking sort of gun, springs, sensors, mini-binoculars, a box of Pocky….._

Tearing her eyes away from the magpie-hoard Aoko made a snort of her own, but the sound had a preoccupied note to it.  "What happened next?" asked Ayumi from her place beside her, reaching out to stroke Spot; the kitten yawned in disinterest and licked a paw.  "This is like a fairy tale, like the ones we hear at school about ninjas or that Western hero—'Robbing Hood'? um, something like that… except—"

"—except that it's *real*… and _this 'Robin Hood' was my __father.  And he didn't rob from the rich and give to the poor, and he didn't escape from the Sheriff of Nottingham's men—instead, they killed him."  Kaito's voice was a little harsh; silence, sad and somewhat bitter, hung around the words after he had spoken them.  Carefully he scooped his small hoard of toys into the closet, pushing them back as far as he could manage and then sitting back with a sigh._

"I'm—I'm sorry, Hei-san!  I didn't mean to hurt you—"  The little girl's eyes had filled with tears; she bit her lip, looking ashamed.

Kuroba Kaito just shook his head, attempting a smile.  "S'okay, Ayumi-chan; I didn't mean to be so abrupt just then, either.  It's just that… this was my _*dad.*  I loved him a lot… and he died."  He sighed again.  "Anyway, he told 'em to take a long walk off a short dock; trouble was, they didn't take much to the idea of somebody knowing what they were looking for but NOT working for them—they weren't much in favor of loose ends.  And then, to make matters even worse, my dad decided that maybe it'd be a good thing for *him* to find the Pandora Gem before his former employers did—I mean, who wants an immortal Bad Guy running around?  Especially one that you knew __YOU could've stopped, if you got to the target first?  So he—"_

"Wait, wait, I'm confused here…"  Aoko was still frowning; she held up a hand, then took Kaito's armload of useless cloth away as Spot jumped neatly from her lap to the floor and wondered off in the direction of the hallway.  "I thought you said—Kaito, your dad didn't believe that the gem would make a person immortal, did he?  I mean, not _*really*?"_

A one-shouldered, painful shrug was her answer as the young man slowly tried to raise his left arm up a little.  "Hard to—_ow!!—say, really; his notes are kinda erratic.  From what I could—__rrrgh!—tell, he was working on the principle that it never hurts to make certain that your enemy's at a disadvantage… and by then, they __were enemies."  He grunted slightly, beads of sweat beginning to appear on his face as he struggled to fold and extend his arm; beneath the strain of his mild exertions a redness began to bloom beneath the tape on his shoulder, and Aoko forgot herself enough to curse._

"Um, Aoko--?  What was that about  'stop swearing'?"  Kaito heard Ayumi muffle a distinct giggle.

"Oh, _BE quiet and keep still for a bit 'til the bleeding stops."  Muttering rude words to herself, the young woman got to her feet.  "Ayumi-kun?  Where can I throw this away?"  The child hopped up, tugging at her to follow._

Kaito made a restless movement that ended in another involuntary "Ow!"  He slowly drew his legs up beneath him, wondering if it would be a good idea to try and stand.  "Errr, Aoko?  Unless you're planning on turning me in to your dad right away, uhhhh, throwing a bunch of blood-stained clothing away where it can be seen would be a BAD thing….."  

Unidentifiable shuffling noises, the occasional _Mrrow? and the sound of cabinets closing were his only answer, but as the young woman reentered the room she gave him a somewhat irritated look.  "I buried them under a bunch of old newspapers and the kitchen-scraps from the last day or so; if that's not good enough you'll have to do it yourself."  Absentmindedly wiping her hands on her jeans, Aoko leaned against the doorjamb with Ayumi beside her.  "Now," she prompted; "what happened next?"_

The young thief sighed, a shadow of old sadness and new pain crossing his face as he slowly began the attempt to climb to his feet; without shame, he allowed his friend to assist him as stiffened muscles protested.  "You _*know* what happened next, Aoko—you were there, remember?  All those years ago, when I came home from school that day and found out I didn't have a father anymore….."_

* * *

Standing quietly beside the doorway, Ayumi tried not to squirm in impatience; why was it taking Hei-san (somehow she just couldn't get herself to think of him as 'Kaito-san'; maybe she should try thinking of him as 'Kid'?  Kid-san? or Kid-kun, maybe?  No, that sounded… sort of weird) so LONG to explain?  At this rate it'd be lunch-time and Rita-kun would be coming home before he told them about why in the world *he* was Kaitou Kid—

It was taking FOREVER.  And she found herself considering the reasons why that might be so; when *she* didn't want to tell something to somebody (like her mom or her dad) she tended to put stuff off by talking about other things first.  Maybe that was it; maybe he didn't want to talk about it, so he was talking and talking and TALKING about history and phantom thieves and his dad as much as possible.

Why?

_*Because he's… worried? scared?  Maybe he thinks we won't like him anymore if he explains that part?  He's hurting now, talking about his dad dying—but he'd rather hurt and talk about that than explain the rest.  I guess he really DOES think we won't like him when he tells us the truth; is it gonna be THAT bad?*_

He had paused for a minute or so as the young woman helped him to his feet; Hei-san was awfully pale, and his forehead was dotted with beads of sweat.  "I— _think— maybe I'll— wait a little while before I— __ngghh!!— try to do anything drastic— like walking….."  The words were forced out between clenched teeth, and Ayumi could see how much the simple act of rising had cost him; it hurt her to watch.  Aoko-san's face was nearly as pale, and despite the muttered string of angry comments she was making, her hands were very careful as she eased Hei-san gently onto the small chair in front of the desk.  From the doorway Spot watched critically, pink nose twitching._

"Hei-san?  Do you want me to get you some more aspirin?"  It was all she could think of doing to help—and she just had to *do* something.  Hei-san looked up at the offer and nodded gratefully, wiping at his face; he was really beginning to look tired now.  Explaining was hard work, apparently.  "Okay!  Don't tell any more stuff 'til I come back, please….."  Ayumi spun around and dashed down the hall towards the bathroom, where she filled up her toothbrush-glass and appropriated the aspirin from the cabinet.

When she returned to the room, Hei-san had shifted a little; he was leaning back against the wall with his bad arm resting in his lap.  "Don't you need a sling for that?" she asked, pulling memories of Mitsuhiko's favorite Western films filled with cowboys, shootouts and bar-room bandaging from her mind.  "John Wayne always wears a sling in the movies when _he gets shot in the shoulder….."_

Hei-san gave a little snort of laughter, gulping down the pills and following them with the water.  "Yeah, but later; right now I need to move it around a little so it doesn't stiffen up any further."  He gave her a rather crooked grin.  "'Sides, if I was John Wayne I wouldn't have ended up on your balcony with a couple of holes through me; instead, I'd've--- oh, _I dunno, shot all the villain's guns out of their hands or somethin', I guess…  That sound 'bout right, little lady?"  As he spoke his accent went through a series of very peculiar __changes, sliding deeper and slower until the words came out in a strong cowboy-drawl that made Ayumi's eyes pop wide open.  At the same time Hei-san ran his hand across his bangs, shoving the messy strands over to one side straight across his forehead; her teacher's face seemed to rearrange itself magically until it was sleepy-eyed and somehow *older* looking: straight-lipped, lined and sardonic and he was speaking from one corner of his mouth and he—_

"…you look….."  She hopped up and down in excitement.  "You look LIKE JOHN WAYNE!!!  Well—_allllmost, 'cept that you're younger and you're not wearing a cowboy hat and you need a handkerchief around your neck and another shirt and—"_

He grinned, a familiar sparkle of mischief back in his rather tired eyes as the likeness and accent dropped away like a mask.  "I need a whole new outfit, don't I?"  Glancing ruefully down at the cut-away remains of his blue shirt and the dirty white pants he shrugged.  "Guess if I went outside like this I'd make a whole new fashion statement."  He chuckled, striking a distinct Runway Model pose (or as much of one as he could manage with the bandages and all).

"What, like 'I am blind and my seeing-eye-dog is dead'?" suggested Aoko-san rather sarcastically as she sank down onto Ayumi's bed.  

Ayumi blinked, not understanding; apparently Hei-san did, though, since his pose swiftly wilted into dejection.  "Maybe you could get him some stuff?" the little girl suggested, frowning.  "Or maybe my daddy's things would fit—"

_"NO."  Both Hei-san and Aoko spoke at the same time, hastily and with some force; they paused to stare at each other for a second before the young woman continued, a frown-line appearing between her brows.  "I mean—I can run home or—"_

"—you could head over to *my* house and pick me up a change of clothes.  Please?  You've had a key to my back-door for ages, and my mom's not home…"  Hei-san looked wistfully at his friend.  "I don't usually wear this outfit for more than a few hours at a time, and I _really feel conspicuous right now.  D'you think that maybe you could—?"_

He was _*stalling* again; Ayumi could tell.  But he was right, too… he did need something else to wear.  "And… Rita-kun'll be here pretty soon—she comes home at eleven for lunch and it's almost ten-thirty now…" said the child doubtfully.  She plopped down on the bed and scooped up her pillow, hugging it for reassurance.  "I don't know what she'll do—I'm not really s'posed to have any visitors over while she's gone."  She hugged the pillow a little tighter, scowling into the fabric; beside her the bed dented slightly as Aoko's kitten leaped up, circled once or twice, then curled up neatly into a cat-shaped curl of fur._

The two adults in the room looked a little panicky.  "How long will she be here?" asked Hei-san slowly, his thin fingers picking nervously at the tape on his side.  "You think maybe--  Aoko?  Could you go get those clothes and come back later?  Yeah, yeah, I _*know*--" and he held up his hand to forestall her outburst; "—I promised to __explain, and I'm not finished.  But….. one part of it you need to hear about after dark, you really do.  Besides…" and he gave her a rather painful grin, "I could really do with a nap about now.  Tired… didn't get more than a couple of hours of sleep last night."  He fought back a yawn, adding "And don't you want to see how things went with your dad?  How DID you keep him from going to work, anyway?"_

Aoko crossed her arms, looking a trifle smug.  "I managed.  It's hard to drive to work when you can't find any of your shoes, the spark-plugs to your car, OR any of the phone-receivers…..  He finally ended up bullying one of our neighbors into lending him some shoes and driving him in, but by that time the rest of his department had cordoned off his office and had a bomb-crew inside searching it."  She shrugged, but Ayumi could see a lot of worry in the movement; she _did want to know how her father was doing, even if she didn't want to admit it.  Not for the first time the child considered that grownups were really very, very strange._

_*If she's worried, why doesn't she just say so?  I would.*_

Hei-san was laughing now; he broke off, coughing a little and hugging his ribs.  "You _stole his shoes?!?  Oh man--!!  Aoko, if you ever wanna go into the Phantom Thief racket, just say the word--!"_

The girl cut him off, snapping "As IF…!" with a growl of temper; but there was a slight little smile on her face as she stood up.  "Ayumi?  Do you think you'll be able to keep Rita-kun from seeing Kaito?  I mean, could you… maybe tell her you're, ummm….."  She looked helplessly at her friend.  "Kaito?  Help me here—I don't want her to have to _lie—"_

Hei-san shook his head, still snickering.  "Hey, no problem.  Just tell her you're practicing a magic trick to show her later and you don't want her to see 'til you've got it right."  He chuckled again.  "I can even teach you a new one if you want…"

His apprentice fixed him with an expectant look, sliding down off the bed (and, incidentally, waking up Spot; the kitten shot her a disgruntled look and tucked his head back beneath his tail with a _mrmphh.)  Ayumi __loved learning new tricks.  "Can you teach me how to make doves appear, like POOF! out of nowhere?" she inquired hopefully._

"Uhhhhh—  Maybe not *quite* yet.  But I can teach you how to do a new card trick… it's called 'Aces Up'.  Will that do?"  He squinted at her and yawned again, looking more than a little exhausted past the cheerfulness.  "Y'know, 'Yumi-chan, I thought for sure you'd want peacocks, not doves…?  How come?"

The little girl winced, remembering her dream from the night before.  "Doves are nicer," she said firmly.  

* * *

_*He looks… tired.  How much of that is real and how much is just another way to put off the rest of the explanation?*  Aoko scowled down at her hands, absently scratching at a spot of dried blood that she had missed on her wrist.  __*Kaito's blood.  He did lose quite a bit—I guess maybe we can put it off for a little while longer…..  After all, he's not going anywhere.*_

_*And that's a problem too…..  He can't stay in Ayumi's closet forever; somehow I've got to get him away from here before this Rita-kun or somebody else finds him.  And—then what?*_

_*And….. since when did I suddenly decide that I was going to help him hide?!?  I'm a police inspector's daughter, and he IS Kaitou Kid…..*_

_*….. but he's also Kaito.  I hate **Kid, but--***_

_*--but—I—don't hate **Kaito.  I—***_

_*--I— Dammit.  This is giving me a headache; I don't know what to d--*_

"Aoko?"

_*--huh?--*_

"Um, Aoko-kun?  This is headquarters, calling all Aokos…..  Tune in, Tokyo?  What's wrong?"  She hadn't realized she was standing there staring, but apparently she had been; a bloodsmeared finger tapped her briefly on the forehead and she swatted at it reflexively, startled.

"N-nothing."  Aoko blinked, then frowned down at the quizzical eyes staring up into hers.  "I guess I need to get going—and Kaito?  Don't even _think about leaving, okay?  You'd better be here when I get back, or—"_

"Yeah, yeah, I know… you'll put your mop 'where the sun doesn't shine.'"  He snickered as she had the grace to blush.  "'S okay; I'm not going anywhere, even if I could.  Right now I doubt I could make it a block without help, and I kind of expect I'd attract the wrong kind of attention….."  Her friend glanced ruefully down at his bare chest, the fingers of his good hand picking idly at the edges of the tape.

He really was quite a mess; Kaito's eternally-unruly mop of hair stuck up even further than usual, sort of waving at the world; there were streaks of grime down the side of his face and a slightly scraped bruise darkening one cheekbone.  The pale skin of his bare chest showed the occasional abrasion here and there, and Aoko could see lighter lines and marks that might be scar-tissue at one place or another.  How many times had he been hurt in the past?  How many times more would he get hurt, if he kept on—doing what he was doing--?

She wondered if he cared; probably not.  What was a bruise or two when your entire world had just gone into cardiac arrest?

And it *had.*  Maybe that was why she wasn't pressing him so hard to get done with the explanation and all, despite the fact that she was just about to explode from impatience; there had been moments while he was telling about his father when the agony of memory had shone through so clearly…..

And no matter who else he was, he was still Kaito; and she didn't like seeing him hurting.

"Errrrr… Aoko?  You're staring again….."  

Those dark blue eyes were peering worriedly into hers now; she shook herself out of her reverie with a shrug.  "Never mind.  Ayumi?  Those wash-cloths and towels I used-- maybe I'd better take them with me and wash them… can you gather up anything with bloodstains?"  The little girl nodded, slipping out the door towards the bathroom.

As if this had been a signal the young man in the chair slumped forward a little onto the desk, eyes closing.  He propped his chin on his good arm, a tangled lock of hair falling half over one eye. "'Yumi-chan…..  I never meant to get her so involved, y'know?  If there had been any other way…"  His voice was very soft, fading a little now with fatigue.  "That wasn't something I planned on at all—'course, I didn't plan on getting *shot* either."

She studied him silently, seeing the lines that weariness had begun to etch onto his face.  "Lots of things don't go like we plan them to," she answered as softly.  "If somebody had asked me yesterday what I would do if I found out who Kid was, I would've said—well, you _know what I would've said."  Her gaze traced the line of Kaito's bent shoulders, lingering on the way the muscles seemed to flow in smooth curves down the length of his bared back.  _

For a single curiously intense second she flashed back in thought to the sensation of how his skin had felt beneath her fingers when she had bandaged him.  It had been warm, almost too warm, and unconsciously she found herself rubbing her fingertips together as he opened his eyes to turn his head her way.  "And what'll you say now, Aoko?"  For once there was no humor in his voice… just tiredness.

"I—don't know.  Nothing yet, I guess….. not until I hear what you have to tell me this evening.  But Kaito?"

"Hmm?"  He blinked up at her.

"It'd better be good."

At that he closed his eyes again, making a small sound in his throat that might have been a laugh.  "'Good,' huh?  Kinda depends on what you think of as 'good.'  But I'm not sorry I did it."  He sighed.  "I'm sorry things turned out like they did, though…  I didn't want you to find out like this."

"Oh really?"  Anger lent an edge to her words; she could hear it.  "And just how DID you want me to find out?"

He sighed again, and this time the noise held as much amusement in it as anything else.  "Wanted to _tell you—I mean, __deliberately, not by accident or anything like that.  Isn't that stupid?  You have no idea how many times I thought about it….."_

"But….."  She paused, leaning against the doorway as uncertainty chased itself through her mind.  "Kaito, what if I had told my dad or something?"  The words _*what if I had gotten you arrested?* hung in the air, heard but unspoken.  "What would you have done then?"_

He shrugged, one-shouldered; his eyes were still closed.  "Gone to jail, I guess.  Justice would have triumphed, your dad would've gotten a medal or something, Kaitou Kid would have been locked up—for a little while, anyway—and the bad guys who killed my dad would have won."  Aoko opened her mouth to retort, and then realized that there was nothing she could really say to that.  Behind her she could hear Ayumi rummaging around in the bathroom clothes hamper.

"Aoko?"  Kaito's voice held a sleepy note.  "Have you got that pin I gave you on you?  Y'know, the little mop-pin?"

"Ummm…."  Slightly red-faced, she rummaged around in one pocket (for some reason she didn't like leaving it at home) and brought the pin out.  "Right here.  Why?"

He barely opened one eye, a faint gleam of mischief showing through the lashes.  "Hit me with it, would you?  Somehow it just doesn't seem right, your being pissed off at me and not smacking me with a mop—"

"You had better be glad you're wounded," she growled, crossing her arms.  "Otherwise you WOULD be getting smacked, and with something a lot bigger than a pin."

At that he raised his head.  "'Yumi-chan?  Aoko's threatening meeee….." he called out plaintively; the little girl came into the bedroom from behind Aoko, carrying a plastic bag full of clothing.  

She stopped short at his woeful expression, a thunderous frown crossing her face.  As Aoko took the bag from her, she shook her head and placed her hands on her hips.  "You're teasing her, aren't you?" scolded Ayumi; "If you tease her, you probably WILL get hit with a mop.  But—um, Aoko-san?  Can you wait 'til he feels better to hit him?  You can yell at him later on, after he's finished explaining… but if you hit him _now you'll just have to put more bandages on him, and I think we're almost out of tape, and I *know* we're out of towels 'cause I got the last one out of the closet earlier—"_

Aoko couldn't help herself; a giggle escaped, and she shook her head as well.  "I can wait," she assured the child, who looked satisfied.  "I'll just hit him twice as hard when I do."  Kaito sighed deeply a final time, assumed an air of martyrdom and closed his eyes again.

***********************************************************************

A key rattled in the Yoshida apartment door; from her room, Ayumi heard it open and shut.  "Ayumi-kun?"

"In here, Rita-kuuuuun!"  The bedroom door opened and the little girl stuck her head out; behind her the faintest rustle of movement faded into stillness.  "Don't come in—"

Books were placed on the kitchen counter, and the young American woman's voice filtered down the hallway.  "Oh?  Why not?"  The refrigerator door opened as lunch items were considered and rejected.  "And what do you want for lunch?"  The question was followed immediately by a sneeze.

"'Cause I'm practicing a magic trick to show you later and I don't want you to see me 'til I got it right.  So don't come in, okay?  Promise?  A peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, please….."  Ayumi had just discovered peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches, which she considered to be high culinary art.

Kitchen cabinets opened and closed; there was the rattle of glassware and the sound of liquid being poured into first one glass, then into a second.  "No problem…" came the slightly preoccupied voice.  "Can you show me the trick after we eat?"  Another sneeze, accompanied by a sniffle.

Ayumi glanced over her shoulder, then drooped slightly.  "Ummmm, no…..  I need more practice first."  She slipped out of the door, carefully closing it behind her and pattering down the hall.  "It's kind of hard to do—"

The American student smiled at her from behind the counter.  "Then you practice hard, okay?  You can show me when we eat dinner."  She spread a little more jelly on the sandwich she was making, adding another dollop for good measure.  "Where'd you learn all this new stuff, anyway?  Your mom told me you were learning to juggle too….."

The child shook her head mysteriously.  "It's a _*secret.*  Can't tell you—"  She wandered over to the pantry, opening it and pulling out a box of almond cookies.  "You sound like you've got a cold, Rita-kun.  Are you feeling alright?"_

Rita sniffled again and rubbed at her eyes.  "I guess so…  Sleepy, though; I took some cold tablets last night and this morning, and I keep wanting to doze off."  She smiled down at her charge, accepting a proffered cookie.  "Thanks for asking, 'Yumi; I'll be okay in a day or so.  You might have to shake me if you need to wake me up, though….."  Munching, the young woman turned back to the counter.  Behind her, Yoshida Ayumi got a thoughtful look on her face and peered once more into the pantry.

"Rita-kun?  What do kittens eat?"

The young woman threw her a slightly baffled look over her shoulder as she spread peanut-butter heavily across a slice of bread.  "Uh, cat-food, I guess….. why?  Is that part of the trick?"

"No, silly.  And I mean _besides cat-food….."_

Rita-kun shrugged a rather mystified shrug.  Little kids—who could tell what they were thinking?  She knew the Yoshidas didn't have a cat.  Small children often had imaginary friends or pets, though; maybe Ayumi had picked up the idea somewhere?  "Well, I guess they'd eat all sorts of things.  Maybe they'd even like sandwiches…"

The child pulled out another handful of cookies.  "Peanut butter ones?"

"Um, probably not.  Cheese, maybe, or tunafish—no, not sushi!  Tunafish _salad, Ayumi-kun….."  Sniffle, sniffle.  She sneezed again._

The little girl considered the idea.  "Oh.  Yuck; I don't _like tunafish salad."_

Rita-kun shrugged again, chuckling.  "Well then, don't feed it to your kitten."  That had to be it—the little girl had developed an imaginary pet.  _*Oh well,* she thought to herself in amusement; __*At least it'll be cheap to feed!  And no litterbox, either.*_

"But I don't HAVE a kitten, Rita-kun!"  The child stared at her, baffling the young woman even further.

"…..Oh.  So—why did you ask me what they'd eat?"

Shrug, shrug.

Rita paused, wondered… and then turned back to making lunch.  Little kids—who could tell what they were thinking?

***********************************************************************

Meanwhile, back in the closet…..

_*Rrrgh; o—kay.  That's ENOUGH movement for a while…..  Ow.  Ow freaking OW.  Stupid bulletwounds.  Or, as Nakamori'd say, @#$%!! bulletwounds….. why do they have to hurt so much?*  It had taken just about every ounce of strength and determination Kaito owned to climb from the desk-chair, stagger the few steps across Ayumi's room and make his way back to a sitting position inside the little girl's closet.  It wasn't that he didn't trust her to keep the American girl out, but accidents happened; it would make him feel a lot more secure if he could make sure they didn't happen to __him._

So; back into the closet he went.  He supposed there was a joke somewhere in that…..

As he settled painfully down amidst the shoes and dustbunnies, something moved at the very corner of his vision.  Startled, Kaito's head jerked up as two baleful blue eyes gleamed at him from the shadows near his feet; a querulous _"MerRowww??" and a faint hiss of displeasure announced that his hiding place had been sub-let._

_*Great.  Keep quiet, cat, or you're toast.  Furry white toast, but toast all the same.*  Their gazes met, blue staring narrow-eyed into blue; Kaito gritted his teeth and refused to back down as his small fluffy rival yawned in apparent derision, stretching a little.  __*You just keep to your end of the closet and I'll keep to mine, okay?  Aoko'll be back in a few hours--*_

_*--oh damn.  And she left you with me and she didn't provide anything like a litterbox.  Great, just great.*  Spot yawned again and seemed to grin nastily._

It wasn't that Kaito disliked cats; quite the contrary, even though the presence of his doves made his house a great favorite with the local feline population.  But _*this* little monster—well, he could recognize rivalry when he saw it, and apparently Spot had it in for him but good—_

Still staring the blue eyes down, the young thief considered a joke somebody had told him about cats once.  _"You know what the difference is between cats and dogs?" they had said… __"We take care of dogs, feed them and love them and take 'em to the vet, and they think:  'Hey wow, these humans treat me great; they must be gods!'… But with cats, well, we take care of cats, feed them and love them and take them to the vet, and they think: 'Hey wow, these humans treat me great; I must be a god!'"'  _

The cool, disdainful gaze boring into his seemed to agree with the latter part of the joke.

Kaito considered for a second; then a slow grin as nasty as the cat's began to creep across his face.  "Hey Spot," he said softly, fixing the blue eyes with his own; "Y'know what?  'Yumi-chan doesn't know a _*thing* about kittens.  She's never had a pet of her own—said so herself.  And I'll bet that if I told her that cute little kittens just LOOOOVE baths that she'd have you under the sprayer-hose in the bathroom quicker than you can say 'meow'….."_

It was *not* his imagination; the kitten _flinched, crouching a little._

"… Well, Spot?  You get my drift?  Just sit there nice and tight and quiet… and we'll get along just fine.  Matter of fact," he said, warming to the idea, "if you don't rock the boat I'll make sure there's some tuna in it for you."

And *that* wasn't his imagination either—the kitten had perked up, looking distinctly interested.  _*Guess I've finally lost it; I'm having a conversation with a cat.  But—oh Hell, whatever works…*  "So—we got a deal?  Behave yourself, keep it quiet, and I'll make it worth your while.  Well?"  Kaito tilted his head a little to one side, surveying the kitten; Spot almost seemed to scowl for a second….._

….. and then, with a rather contrived (and exaggerated) expression of supreme indifference the kitten curled up into a ball and (at least to all appearances) went to sleep.

Kaito blinked.  _*Guess that's as good an answer as I'm gonna get.*  He breathed a sigh of relief and resolved privately to never, ever mention the previous conversation to __anybody._

Leaning back against the wall, the young thief tried to settle a little more comfortably; a huge yawn split his face.  The aspirin he had taken were starting to kick in and so long as he made no abrupt moves things weren't _*too* bad….. and he was tired.  Kaito's eyes began to lid closed….._

_*….. shouldn't really nap, I suppose—that Rita girl's still here.  But 'Yumi-chan'll keep her out…..  Could really use a couple hours've sleep…..*_

He yawned, shivering just a little in his shirtless state.  _*…should've gotten that bathrobe back, but I think Aoko took it to wash.  No biggee, not that cold…..  'S funny, though—my shoulder's tingling, not a hurt-tingle, just a sort of itch.  Side too.  Feels ….. sort of like when your foot falls asleep and then gets feeling back later…..*_

_*Awfully tired.  Tired of hurting… tired of talking.  Shoulder feels better, all tingly….. wonder why? Kinda nice, though; never mind.*_

Yaaaaaaaaaawn…..  His head sank down onto his chest.

_*…..doesn't hurt, so's okay.  Sleepy….. j'st gonna doze off f'r a few minutes….. zzzzzzzz…..*_

_*…..zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…..*_

_*…..zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…..*_

* * *

An undefined time later Kaito blinked, his eyes opening to the darkness of the stuffy closet.  _*Mrmph?  Where--?  Oh, right.  Dozed off.  What woke me?*  A cheerful young woman's voice bidding farewell gave him the answer as what sounded like the front door closed.  __*Ah; Rita-kun just left.  Didn't sleep long then; guess lunch is over--*_

At the thought of lunch his stomach growled loudly; cursing under his breath, the young thief swallowed hard and wondered if ninjas ever had that sort of problem.  _*It'd be pretty damned embarrassing to be nabbed out of your hidey-hole by somebody just because your stomach growled so loud they heard you…  Good thing Rita-kun's gone; I doubt she'd really feel too happy about my joining her and 'Yumi-chan for lunch.*_

Growl, growl….. grumble, rumble, gurgle…..  _*Ahhh, shutup.  Stupid stomach.*_

He could hear clunks, rustles and clatters from down the hall; the slosh of liquid followed the opening of what was probably the 'fridge door.  That pattering noise, that was Ayumi coming down the hall…..  

"Hei-san?  Do you like peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches?"  The closet door slid open to reveal a slightly smeared little girl, carefully carrying two glasses and a napkin-wrapped object—no, TWO napkin-wrapped objects that smelled _wonderful._

He drew in a deep, happy breath.  "'Yumi-chan?  Right now I'd eat 'em if they had rat-poison inside; you're a lifesaver!" 

She giggled, then plopped down on the floor beside him and watched as he wolfed the first sandwich down.  "You look like you're feeling better; did you take a nap?"

He swallowed a huge bite, following it with a gulp of soda from the glass.  "Yup.  Still sleepy, though…  Guess I'll doze a little longer; Aoko won't be back for a little while—she needs to check on her dad as well as take care of getting my stuff for me."  Kaito yawned and took another bite, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand; reprovingly his young friend passed him the napkin that had wrapped the sandwiches, and he used it with a somewhat guilty look.  "Um, sorry.  Guess I'm sort of making a pig out of myself…"  He began on the second sandwich.

"That's okay."  The child beside him took a long swallow from her own glass.  "Oh—I almost forgot; I'll be right back…."  Without warning she sat the drink down and hopped up, padding out the door and back towards the kitchen; a moment later she scooted back into the bedroom carrying what looked to be a _third sandwich, this time on a plate._

_*Hrm?  Oooo, another sandwich!  Looks like cheese this time….  Yeah-- don't mind if I do, 'Yumi-chan, thanks—*  He began to reach for the sandwich…_

But the little girl paused, looking around the room and calling softly:  "Spot-chan?  Spooooot—"

_*…oh.  It's for the cat.  Hey, how come HE rates a plate?  All *I* got was a napkin--*  As the kitten wandered out from the closet and began to scarf up the sandwich, Kaito could swear it was smirking around its whiskers._

_*One-upped by a kitten.  Great.*  He shrugged and attempted to ignore the munching sounds.  "Um, 'Yumi-chan?  When will Rita-kun be coming back?  I might better call Aoko and let her know—"_

The child wiped her mouth with her own napkin.  "She said she'd be at the library all this afternoon, then she'd come and bring dinner—we're gonna have take-out Miso Ramen, mmmm!—at, ummmm, five o'clock I think, and then she's going back to the library for a while."  Another gulp, then she put down the glass and scuffled around in one pocket, producing a well-thumbed deck of cards.  "Hei-san?  Can you teach me that trick now?  Then I can practice it while you take a nap—"  

Her hopeful gaze was fixed on his, and he chuckled as he put down his own glass.  "Sure.  Okay, this one's almost a self-working trick—you remember, I told you about those?  You need to start out with all four Aces pulled, one on the top of the deck and the other three on the bottom—"

* * *

"Think you got it?  Good.  So…… show me!"  Kaito grinned at his young apprentice, fighting back another yawn.

The little girl fumbled the deck slightly but managed a creditable riffle, carefully keeping certain cards in place.  "Okay…. I'm gonna start dealing the cards out, and you tell me when to stop."  Starting from the top she began stacking the cards face-down on the floor; Kaito watched critically, calling out "Stop" three times.  Ayumi squared off the remaining cards and placed them in a fourth stack, grinning slightly…..

(and Kaito knew that grin.  He wondered just how Kudo was going to feel the first time he recognized Kid's confident Poker-Face on Ayumi's young features…..)

"Well?"  He was grinning too.  "Ante up!"

With a confident toss of her head and a flourish, Ayumi the Astounding flipped each stack of cards over in turn—to reveal an Ace sitting serenely on top of each stack_.  "Taaaa-daaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!!"   _

Kaito applauded enthusiastically by slapping his one good hand against the floor.  "Smooth, Ayumi-chan!  I couldn't see the Bottom Charge you used just then at all.  Very smooth.  Now," and he crooked one eyebrow in the giggling little girl's direction as she scooped up the cards and squared the deck, "d'you think you can do that 'Pick A Card, Any Card' trick I showed you last week?  I bet if you t—"

**_***BZZZZZZZTT!!***_**

The door-buzzer went off like the Trump of Doom, making them both jerk their heads up in shock.  Ayumi's eyes bugged out as cards scattered in all directions, and Spot hightailed it hastily for his corner of the closet.  And as for Kaito—

_*--ohManohMan, don't be the cops, don't be the cops--  No, no, there's no reason the cops should show up, Idiot; Aoko wouldn't tell 'em without hearing me out this evening, she SAID so, so it's not the cops unless somebody saw you land on the balcony last night…..*  He found himself somehow buried deep in the depths of Ayumi's closet with no memory whatsoever of moving (although the muscles in his wounded side and arm said otherwise), snugged up as tightly as possible against the wall.  With his good hand Kaito reached swiftly up to yank several articles of clothing down over him, considering rather wildly that if being buried under little-girl sweaters and jumper-sets would save his bacon then Hey, it was worth the indignity.  "'Yumi-chan???  Go see who it is—" he whispered sharply, tugging the door shut.  Through the crack he could see his young apprentice gulp hard and scramble to her feet, pelting out of the room._

Distantly he could hear her voice over the pounding of his own heart.  "W-who _IS it?!?"_

_"Ayumi-kun?"  Even through the distortion of the speaker Kaito could recognize the clear young voice__.  "It's me, Conan—can I come up?"_

"Uhhhh….. just a minute….."  Frantically the little girl ran back down the hall to stick her head around the doorway.  _"HEI-SAN!!" she hissed, eyes wide.  "What'll I do?!?  I forgot—  Conan and Rin and Mitsuhiko and Genta, they're all coming--  I *forgot!!*"  She danced in place in agitation.   "Hei-san?!?  What'll I do?!?"_

Deep in the closet, the Phantom Thief closed his eyes.  _*Oh shit.  I'm TOAST.*  And from the speaker he could hear the insistent, slightly worried (and now slightly suspicious) voice:_

_"Ayumi?  Ayumi-kun?  Is there something wrong?"_

_"Ayumi?"_

**************************************************************************************************

_To Be Continued…….._

_Ysabet's notes__:  BWAHAHAHAHHHH!!!  Made you look— :P_

_ **sweatdrop**  No, no, put down that chainsaw!  I swear, I'll write the next bit as fast as I can!  Trust me, you ain't seen NOTHIN' yet……._

_By the way, just as an aside:  The tricks found in this fic come from **Card Trick Central at http://web.superb.net/cardtric/index.htm; check 'em out!  A very cool site with all sorts of fun stuff on it; granted, they don't tell you how to make peacocks appear like POOF! out of nowhere, but I suspect that this is now the least of Kaito's problems.**_

_Many, many thanks to those who helped me betaread this monster!  Byeeee!  Gotta go finish Conversations before I get beheaded……_


	8. Examinations

**_Ysabet's_****_ notes:  Hiya!  Sorry this took so long—it got so huge I finally decided (after writing most of the bugger) to break it into two parts.  It reached over 27,000 words and… well….. anyway, things are getting weirder all the time.  Please don't lynch me—mutations to the plot have once more occurred, and it's gonna be MUCH longer than previously expected.  **sweatdrop**  Oh well, at least y'all are getting both chapters 8 AND 9 within a few days of each other….._**

****

**_Chapter 8:  Examinations_******

"So he has it."

The speaker sat once more in near-darkness, although this time the shadows were unleavened by the glow of any cigar.  A leaded-glass lamp on a table on the other side of the room lent a dull, golden glare across a few feet of carpet, scarcely enough to allow the nervous man standing within its glare to see his feet.

"Yes sir," he answered in a subdued tone.  "He—our agents reported that the target had been taken along with that tiara—"

The shadowed man waved this away, the movements of his hand nothing more than bare traceries of black on black.  "Not important.  The Eye is what matters….."  There was a faint, sibilant rustle of cloth as he shifted invisibly in his chair, accompanied by the clink of a glass.  "I assume that none of our agents were taken?"

The other man was quick to answer.  "Not **_alive_**, sir.  Their bodies, though—"

"See to them.  No loose ends."

The other nodded, grateful to escape that line of questioning.  He wiped sweat away from his forehead, all too aware of how _visible_ he had to be in the lamp's tawny glow.  "Yessir."

The smooth voice spoke again, and this time there was a coldness about it, chilling and dangerous.  "…Were any of the _Elect _among the dead?"

A pause; the man by the lamp closed his eyes in dread, thinking bitterly that the gods seemed to be feeling playful today.  _"Yessir._  Suo-san; he—took a head shot in the firefight.  His body is with the others, but I can assure you we—" his voice faltered, falling silent against the hollowness in the room.  

For a long moment there was nothing:  not a movement, not a breath.  Then the shadowed man turned a little, eyes reflecting back the lamplight like a cat's; coppery-golden in the dark, they were as emotionless and intent as any tiger's_.  "Be sure that you do," he said softly, and then turned away back to the darkness._

The other man shivered.  "Y—yessir."  His own eyes slid hopefully towards a distant, near-invisible line of silvery light that indicated the room's exit.  "Shall I go take care of it now?"  _*Please,* some near-forgotten part of him prayed, _*don't look at me again.*__

He was fortunate; the eyes remained fixed on some point in the blackness.  "Go on.  And—"

The man was halfway to the door, but he paused immediately; "Yessir?"  _*Just let me go--*_

"Send in Jiro-san to me, will you?"  The words were smooth again, although the coldness still lingered and the edges were perhaps a trifle sharper than before.  "I have work for him."

"Jiro-san--- uh, yessir.  Of course sir."  The man quickly left the room, briefly allowing a wash of illumination in through the door before it shut behind him and he stumbled out into the corridor outside.  Once there, he leaned against the wall until his heart stopped crashing, and then quickly continued on his way down the hall.

Inside the blackened room there was only the sound of breathing.  Then the shadowed man whispered softly to himself, a litany of words in a tongue that bore no resemblance to modern Japanese.  The words seemed to echo; one after another they hung in the air and then faded into silence.

The last word to be spoken was _'Suo.'_   Then he took a deep hissing breath and whispered to himself again in the tones of a quotation; had there been anyone else there who understood, they might have heard:  

"….._'Thou shalt either be killed and attain heaven or conquer _and enjoy the earth, O my son, so rise thou up..…'  _Suo, you **_fool_….."**___

The room answered him back with darkness.

***************************************************************************************************

The bus pulled away from the curb behind the young woman with a pneumatic _*chuff* of hydraulics.  Nakamori Aoko smoothed her rather unruly hair back a little, glancing up and down the sidewalk a bit guiltily as she hefted the bag she was carrying.  Of course, there she was out on a school day, without a uniform AND without the official presence of a parent or whatever; no wonder she felt like a delinquent._

The bus trip had passed in a daze—it was a wonder that she had gotten off at the right stop, what with all the thoughts swirling in her head.  Worries about her father battled it out with the simple, bewildering shock of her best friend's revelations that morning… and the result of it all looked like it was going to be a headache of monumental proportions, once Aoko had time to sit down and allow herself to feel it.

For the moment, though…..

_*Just keep moving,*_ she thought fiercely; _*Just keep on going and you'll do fine.  If you stop and let yourself THINK too hard, that's when you'll lose it—and right now, you can't afford that.  Besides, if you lose it you won't be able to hear the rest of Kaito's explanation.*  That was a pretty good incentive, really; she hadn't been joking when she had told him that he'd better have a __damned good explanation for what he had been doing._

_*And it's not like he couldn't have told me; I mean, we've been friends for—how long?  Ever since we met in front of the Clock Tower when we were kids.  And lately we've been—well, he should have told me.  What did he think I'd do?  Scream for my father without giving him a chance to explain?*  Aoko_ felt a slow flush of anger kindle through her as the unlocked her front door; the lack of trust had _*hurt,* no matter how well she had hidden it._

_*Kaito, if you don't have a really, really good reason for this….. I'll…….. I don't know what I'll do.  I really don't know.*  The_ anger tried to fade away into pain, but she managed to hold onto it; anger was good, anger was familiar.  Anger made her feel _stronger_….. as if she was a little more in control of things that she had been, a little more aware.

Calling out "Tadaima!" more from reflex than anything else (it was pretty unlikely her father was home), the Inspector's daughter slipped off her shoes and stomped towards the kitchen with her bundle of bloodstained laundry.

_*I'd better get these washing first…. Let's see:  cold water for blood, right.  Better pretreat them first--*  Sloshing_ generous amounts of stain-removers around, she spent a few minutes scrubbing at the load of washcloths, towels, child's pajamas and the small rug that she had collected from Ayumi's; muttered curses heaped on Kaito's head kept time to the work (and kept her anger at a manageable level, for that matter), and she finally dumped the whole lot into the washer with a sigh of relief.  

How many times in the past had she had to deal with bloodstains on her father's clothes?  Too many.  As Aoko dropped the top on the washer, she wondered briefly what he would say about her washing Kaitou Kid's laundry in the same machine as his…..

Probably something unprintable.  _Certainly_ something obscene.

And—why was she thinking about stupid things like that, anyway?  Why wasn't she working on how she was going to explain that the boy she had grown up with—the boy _*he* had allowed to play with his daughter, allowed to eat at his table, the boy he had watched grow up beside her… was the criminal he had been trying to catch over the past year or so?_

She **_WAS_ going to tell her father…..**

….. wasn't she?  _Wasn't she?_

_*Aaaargh!*  Never_ mind; now she really *was* getting a headache.  Maybe a cup of tea and something to eat would make her feel a little better—  

***BRRRRP!!***BRRRRP!!***

The horrible buzzing of her cell-phone nearly made her jump out of her skin.  Leaning back against the washer, Aoko pulled it from a pocket and flipped it open with slightly shaky hands.  "Moshi moshi--?  Oh—Hello, Tousan….."

_*…..Speak of the devil and up he jumps…..*_

Her father's voice sounded even tireder than she felt; apparently his staff had managed to keep him from entering his office (much to his blasphemously-expressed displeasure—he had probably made up a few new words just for the occasion) while the Bomb Squad took yet _*another* good, hard look.  No bombs yet; but they were still checking, the paperwork was mounting up, he was safely ensconced in a secure room offsite and was currently doing his best to elevate his blood pressure beyond the boiling point._

All told, Nakamori  Senior sounded pretty much like his daughter had expected he would; she felt a vast wave of relief wash through her, almost strong enough to make her feel a little faint.  He was okay.  And now he was asking about—

"Me?  I'm fine, Tousan—no, I _*don't*_ want to stay at a safe house, I'm okay here 'til you get home—  Oh."  It didn't look like he'd be home that evening…..  Aoko bit her lip, a cold trickle of fear beginning to walk its way up her spine.  Maybe she could stay at Keiko-kun's house or something? Or—

Well, _*that* would work…..  _

"Tousan?  I could stay over at Kaito's—he's home sick right now so I won't be alone… and besides, he needs somebody to—to take care of him since his mom's out of town…..  Would that be okay?"  Aoko pushed an unruly lock of hair out of her eyes, wondering if she had lost her mind completely.  _*Let's see, a translation of the question I just asked would be "Hey Tousan, can I stay at Kaitou Kid's secret hideout tonight?  He's been shot by the bad guys so I don't think I'll have to worry about him being much of a threat, not that I couldn't handle him since he's also Kaito-kun….."*_

Apparently it was alright with her dad; he actually *approved* of Kaito, something she couldn't allow herself to think too hard about just now without having hysterics..  Fighting back the bubble of slightly manic laughter that kept trying to take over, Aoko spent a minute or two scribbling down contact numbers and addresses of where he would be staying.  Just before hanging up, she commented that maybe he get somebody to stop by the house—she'd leave a couple of pairs of his shoes on the front porch…..

_*I won't apologize.  I'm worried about him, I'm scared for him, but I won't apologize for keeping him from going in right away this morning like a moron and getting killed.  No quite, anyway.*_

Her dad didn't quite apologize for being a stubborn idiot, but his gruff mutter of thanks for the shoes idea went a long ways towards the general concept (well, probably as close as his daughter was going to see him get, anyways; he wasn't very good at apologies either).  Aoko sighed as she flicked the cellphone shut, feeling a little forlorn; it wasn't that she had actually _expected_ her dad to come home, not after a death-threat and all…..

….. but still…..

It was the whole stupid, stupid *secrets* thing again.  As she poked around the kitchen looking for something that vaguely resembled lunch, the things she had heard that morning simmered in the back of her mind like a pot that kept trying to boil over.  _WHY_ hadn't he told her?  _*I mean,* she thought angrily as she slammed a cabinet shut (it looked like it was going to be a leftovers day; she needed to go shopping), __*if there's anybody that knows a lot about Kaitou Kid, it's me.  I've been hearing about him since I was a kid!  I even SAW him then once—Kaito's dad, I guess; I was—what?  Seven?  Kaito and I had only met a month or so earlier, so I couldn't have been very old.*_

Unseeingly she stared at the microwave as leftover rice and a couple of pork buns reheated, remembering…..

_* * * * *_

_She had gotten in trouble for doing something stupid at school—there had been this other girl who was sort of a bully and Aoko had called her a rude name (even then her father's influence was showing up).  The teacher had been less than pleased; her father had been even less pleased to be called up for an evening Teacher-Parent conference. _

_ It had been short and to the point; the teacher had been stern, Nakamori had been disgruntled, and Aoko-chan had sulked on her seat in the corner of the office until it was over._

_They had been leaving when her dad got the message on his radio:  Kaitou Kid the Phantom Thief had been spotted near the __Tokyo__Civic__Center__, less than two blocks away.  Little Aoko hadn't been afraid—after all, she was with her dad and HE was a cop; if there were bad guys around, he could shoot them for her.  And besides, she thought, bouncing excitedly in the backseat of the squadcar, whenever she got to see her dad working she always learned some new words._

_Of course, they tended to get her into even *more* trouble at school….._

_It was somewhat anticlimactic to arrive just as the Phantom Thief was leaving; they just hadn't been quick enough.  Aoko had craned her head against the glass, staring in astonishment at the white blur racing across the rooftop across the street.  There were uniformed figures behind it, lots of them, and they were all waaaay up high—her dad was shouting all sorts of stuff from the front seat, leaning out the window and calling the Kid names she had never heard  before.  There was no chance the thief could escape, was there?  They were so far up and there were so many cops after him—_

_Of course, if you're running FROM all the cops, then there aren't any in *front* of you to block your exit, are there?  _

_Aoko's__ jaw had dropped as she watched the swift white figure fling itself off the edge of the roof—she screeched and hid her face behind her hands, peeking out between her fingers and unable to look away—_

_--as he fell and fell and fell---_

_--and then a miracle had happened.  A white something, like *wings* maybe, seemed to burst out of nowhere on the falling thief.  His plummet changed angle and became a steep swoop, then level flight, then an arc that carried him RIGHT overhead from across the street._

_Aoko__ had rolled her window down by now, and as she stuck her head out and peered wide-eyed up she had, briefly, seen a laughing blur of a face below the shadow of his top-hat less than three meters above their car….._

_Her father had actually managed to propel himself out of the window with one foot on the windowsill and the other on the roof in a vain attempt to reach his favorite quarry—not that it had done him any good whatsoever.  Later on, when Aoko-chan had helped him with his copious band-aids and merthiolade, she had asked him:  Why did he want to catch Kaitou Kid so much?_

_That's when he had explained it to her.  Kaitou Kid was a thief—thieves stole things—and stealing was bad, she knew that, right?  So all those nights when he couldn't come home to her, all those nights when she had to stay with the next-door-neighbors or the babysitter down the street… he was trying to catch Kaitou Kid.  The Kid was why he hadn't been at her school recital; the kid was the reason behind his not taking her to the carnival a few weeks before.  The Kid stole free time from him, and that stole time together with his daughter away from Aoko-chan._

_And that was when she began to hate Kaitou Kid._

_* * * * *_

***BEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!***  

Aoko jumped; _*Oh, right—the microwave--*  She_ had been worlds away, remembering…  She had told Kaito all about it the next day, too; he had been properly impressed.  And now, all these years later….. she wondered what he thought of the memory.  If only he had been there to see his father swoop like a white bird through the dusk, past streetlights and signs and powerlines; Aoko had actually felt the wind of his passing on her young face.

And here she was again, dealing with Kaitou Kid.  Only….. now it was her best friend that was involved and she was _so damned confused about the whole thing she could scream._

_*Aaaargh.*  Lunch_; lunch would help, DOING things would help.  She could go over and feed Kaito's doves, pick up his clothes and then…..

The young woman bit back an "ouch!" as the hot dishes from the microwave burned her fingers; dammit, she kept getting distracted—

….. and then?

Sliding into a chair at her kitchen table, Aoko took a large bite from a pork bun and wondered uneasily what secrets she would learn next.

***************************************************************************************************

Today, Kuroba Kaito reflected, was *not* a good day to be a Phantom Thief.

There he lay at the very back of Ayumi-chan's closet among the shoes and dustbunnies, hoping rather frantically that he looked as much like a heap of fallen kiddie-clothing as he thought he did.  He couldn't properly pull himself up into a ball, not with his wounded shoulder; he couldn't properly disguise himself—everything was either at home or among the heap of miscellaneous items that he had pulled into the closet with him.  Besides, what could he disguise himself as?  A shoe-rack?

Outside the closet he could hear the frantic rustle of 'Yumi-chan as she threw on clothes; she had still been padding around in her pajamas when her visitors arrived (the ones that were currently bellowing "Hurry up, Ayumi-kun!  We got  a copy of _Shanghai Noon to watch, and Genta-kun needs the bathroom!" outside her apartment door—apparently Mitsuhiko, Rin and the impatient Genta had been right behind Conan).  The little girl yelled back for them to wait, that'd she be just a moment—and then out the door she went, slamming it behind her._

_*Whew.*  Now_ if they'd just stay in the living room and NOT come looking for anything in the closet…..  _*Nothing in here but a bunch of shoes, clothes, coathangers, a shoe-rack that's making much too personal contact with my backside and one Phantom Thief in somewhat damaged condition.  Oh—and a snoozing kitten.*  Spot_ had decided that this was a good time for a bath and a nap; a quick once-over of his paws and face and he had curled up to sleep the sleep of the Amazingly Cute.

As he listened to the front door opening and the complaints/hellos/chatterings of the incoming kids, Kaito's thoughts kept ricocheting for some reason to something he had heard from a fellow classmate, an exchange student from India named Rukma Pratibha, regarding a thing she called 'karma.'  Supposedly you earned what you got, or you got what you earned, or something like that…..

Hell if he knew what HE had been doing in a past life to warrant being trapped in a little girl's closet by a handful of gradeschoolers and a demonically-intelligent miniature detective.  It had to have been something pretty damned drastic, though, especially since another factor had just been added by the sound of Genta-kun's activities in the bathroom:

He needed a turn in there soon himself.  Real soon.  REAL soon.

How long was _Shanghai Noon,_ anyway?  A couple of hours?  Kaito groaned silently and began to try and think about something other than bathrooms and running water and— 

"Hey, Genta-kun!  Hurry up, okay?—I'm next and Mitsuhiko's behind me.  What'd you do, fall in?"  That was Conan.  Well, of _*course*_ it was Conan….. 

Kaito fidgeted, rather desperately trying to concentrate on something else—magic tricks, his wounds, heists, schoolwork, the Pandora Gem, doves, Aoko, _anything.  It was going to be a long, long two hours….. and he didn't even get to watch the movie, dammit!_

* * * * *

_***Two very long hours later……… and then another hour after that………***_

"Rewind it _again, rewind it __again!  Let's watch the shootout one more time--!  That was so __*COOL!!!  Didja see how the sunlight was shining through all those bullet-holes in his clothes?!?__*"  Kaito would never have figured Genta and Rin __(RIN-kun, for God's sake!) to be such Western fans.  The cheering level in the other room had reached stadium proportions at certain points, although Conan had had to do some fast talking during a few parts of the movie ("Conan-kun?  What's a—a bordello?  It looks kinda like a bath-house, but not exactly—")._

That had been funny; *not* so funny was the fact that if Kaito didn't manage to reach a bathroom pretty soon he was fairly certain he was going to die.  Now THAT would be an ignominious end for a Phantom Thief, wouldn't it?  Death by kidney failure…..  And his shoulder was throbbing; and Spot was snoring slightly, the little rat.

_***creeeeaaakkkk***_

**_*!!!*  Kaito_** went on the alert; that had been Ayumi-chan's door.  Who the--??  Let's see, from the tangle of voices in the living room he could make out…. Ayumi… Mitsuhiko, and that was Rin… and… Genta…..

Oh.  Oh no.

Well, of COURSE it had to be Conan, didn't it?  Kuroba Kaito sank down as far as possible beneath his admittedly-pathetic camouflage of Ayumi-sized jumpers and blouses and waited, wondering what the rules were about taking out loans on your karma…..

* * * * *

Something wasn't right; Edogawa Conan could smell it, both figuratively and mentally.  Something, somewhere, was….. well, he hated to use the old cliché of 'fishy,' but it fit just now.  Something stank of misdirection.

He had noticed it as soon as Ayumi-chan let them in—a whiff of disinfectant and a peculiar dampness in the air, an unfamiliarity in a place that he had become very familiar with over the past year and a half or so.  The dampness he could put off to the recent rain, if this had been a house (roofs leak, after all)—but it was an apartment building, and then there was that faint smell of some sort of—what was it?  Merthiolade?  Hydrogen Peroxide?  Maybe, or something similar…..

Ayumi had been a bit nervous, hadn't she?  Her eyes had kept straying down the hall towards her room, no matter how interested she was in the movie.

And then there was the bathroom.  There had been pale drops of dried pinkish-brown on the floor where something stained had been wrung out in the sink and had splashed.  The garbage-can was normal enough for the most part, but there was a used-up spool of first-aid tape sitting right in the top layer as well as two clean tag-ends of what looked to be gauze bandage fabric….. and the disinfectant-smell was stronger in here, much stronger than out in the hall…..

Someone had gotten hurt.

One of the reasons that Kudo Shinichi/Edogawa Conan had managed his rather phenomenal level of deductive success had been his willingness to follow clues to their conclusions *without pulling back from the unthinkable.*  Most people, when working things out, had a limit beyond which they did subconsciously did not tend to venture; it was hard for your average mind to get past ideas like "He's too nice to be a murderer" or "She wouldn't hurt a fly" or "Why would THEY do something like THAT?"  He had specialized, both before and after his 'reduction' in thinking what other people did not want to think.

But right now…..  Right now, _*he* was the one who just did NOT want to follow the clues through to their logical conclusion.  He had heard the rumors from the stationhouse via a phone call to Mouri-kun; someone had seen Kaitou Kid possibly take a bullet during the previous evening's escapade at the University Museum.  Of course, the little spatters and the medical debris could have come from Ayumi's American babysitter or even her mother; it could have been from something as innocent as a bad papercut or an unfortunate slice on a knife at dinnertime….. if it hadn't been for the threads._

They had been lying on the hallway carpet where they had been trodden into the fibers by someone's shoe:  long, fine silvery threads from some very white and silky garment; their pallor must have been extreme before they had gotten the reddish-brown bloodstains that clotted half of their length.  The ends were cut, showing that they had been cut apart rather than snagged, probably by scissors; and tangled with them was a single dark blue cotton thread.

Silvery white cloth with a silky finish, stained with blood; dark blue cotton, equally stained.  Conan *really* didn't want to think about what he was thinking about…..  But the part of his brain that never quite relaxed kept putting two and two together and getting an injured 1412.

In Ayumi-kun's apartment.  After the thief had SWORN not to involve her in his… nocturnal pursuits.  If anyone had been standing close enough to hear, they would have wondered about the low growling sound coming from the little boy who slowly opened the door to Ayumi's bedroom.  Conan's face was like stone as he glared around the room, wondering where to begin.

He couldn't really blame Ayumi-chan—it had had to have been hard, dividing your loyalties that much….. and that was just one more bit of fuel on the fire that he currently felt like roasting Kid over.  As his eyes were busy scanning the room so his mind kept gnawing at one particular question:  WHY would the thief break his word?  Okay, admittedly the word 'thief' might have something to do with it, since the very act of theft required Kaitou Kid to be a specialist in deception; but somehow Conan was certain that his adversary tended to keep his promises when he made them…..  So WHY, then?  He quietly stepped towards Ayumi's bed, his fuming beginning to cool a little as reason asserted itself past what felt oddly like betrayal.

Two possibilities came to mind (and why was there something that looked for all the world like white cat-fur all over Ayumi's bed?).  First:  the thief had done a really superb job of pulling the wool over Conan's eyes and had never told the truth at all…  The thought was galling, but it *was* possible…..  Second:  something drastic had happened, something that put either the Phantom Thief's life or that of an innocent in jeopardy.   _*It wouldn't just be an injury, even a gunshot-wound,* he thought absently, peering beneath his friend's bed and sweeping a hand across the floor  (more cat hair…)  __*Unless he was REALLY in trouble he'd be a lot more likely to head back to wherever he goes when he's not 'active'—I mean, the guy can't live in a vacuum, he's got to have some sort of safe haven.  Maybe he even has a double identity of some sort.  Weird thought; he looked about my age, my real one… does he go to school somewhere, maybe even to my old high school?  Does he have a family, and do they know what he does at night?  Do they care?  His father—he died, I got *that* right when I guessed it.  Is his mother still alive?*  The boy sighed, wandering over to the sliding glass door that opened onto Ayumi's balcony.  __*So many questions…*_

He stared down at a spot in the carpet halfway between the bed and the door that _might have been blood; the damp smell he had noticed was strong.  __*Listen to me—I almost sound like I'm defending him.  That's… stupid, like a cat defending a rat.  The problem is, this rat seems to have a fairly strong moral code.*  He needed to look a little further…..  __*Ah.* _

Conan stopped abruptly, frowning suddenly down at his sock-clad feet (he had kicked his scuffs off at the doorway to allow for quiet movement).  _*Hrm; somebody was careless…..  Damn.  Damn, damn, damn.  I was hoping I was wrong, sort of, though I can't think why.*  The_ carpet underfoot was damp, very damp—and the drier bits were stiff, as if they had been water-soaked and then allowed to dry without being blotted up.  _*Of course, Ayumi-kun could have just left her window open last night—no.  There it is…..*_  A smear of something reddish-brown about two inches long stood out in stark detail on the door-jamb at roughly shoulder height to an adult.  

_*Not something Ayumi left, then…  Goddammit, Kid, WHY did you do this?*  Conan's_ eyes narrowed as he turned to regard the room with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.  _*You had to have a good reason, but—you SWORE you wouldn't get her involved, and if you came here for refuge you sure as hell have.  Whatever made you break your promise better have been worth a jail-cell, because like it or not, you're—*_

_*Wait.  What was that?*  There_ had been the barest scrape of a sound…..

Unerringly Conan's gaze swung towards the closet.  He took a step forward, his young face settling into grim lines as he brought his watch up and flicked the cover open, cocking the trigger— and then hesitated.

_*Shit.  If I catch him here and now, I'll have to explain to the kids.  Ayumi'll be heartbroken, I'll have to call the cops and her involvement will come out.  Wonderful, just wonderful.  So what the hell DO I do?  I guess I could pop him with a dart and keep him unconscious 'til later, but they don't really last that long.  Three or four darts?  Or I could just leave him alone and then catch him when he leaves; he can't stay here forever.*_

There it was again, a sort of faint rustling noise.  And it was DEFINITELY coming from the closet; it cut off abruptly, the silence seeming as loud as thunder in contrast.

_*I need to know for sure, though.  I don't think he'll hurt me, even knowing that I'm not a real kid.  So—just one look—*_

He closed his watch and reached for the closet door…..

* * * * *

_*ShitShitShit.  I am so totally screwed you could use me to mount shelves on at this point.*_  Kaito could practically FEEL the Shrimp's eyes boring holes through the closet door; he was busted, he knew it, he knew it, he knew it….. and it was all Spot's fault.  The goddamn Fiend in Feline Form had woken up from his nap, yawned once, and then _streeeeeeeeetched__….. making just enough noise to be heard.  And right now the little monster was calmly washing a paw!_

Maybe if he just sat very, very still…..  

_*Oh, hell.*  Footsteps_, just outside the closet door—small ones, Conan-sized.  A faint rattling sound, as if—yup.  He was well and truly screwed.  And now the small fingers were tightening on the latch;  Kaito could _hear them….._

Any defenses available?  Nope; he was more or less sprawled on top of his remaining arsenal of smoke grenades, sonic bombs, card-gun, etcetera—and besides, they wouldn't exactly do him much good in his current condition.  Lastly he'd be *damned* if he'd scare the crap out of poor 'Yumi-chan like that (this was gonna be hard enough on the poor girl as it was)…..  So:  he was doomed.  Aoko would kill him when she found out.

Kaito closed his eyes silently in surrender and despair, resigning himself unhappily to an anesthetic dart and a protracted stay in the hoosegow; somehow the whole situation just didn't seem quite _real._  In his mind the young thief found himself composing a note…..  

*_'Dear Mom:  I'm really sorry you're getting this letter from jail, but please let me explain.  You know that "little secret" of Dad's that you somehow never got around to telling me about?  The one about his "night job"?  The one where he wore a __CAPE_?!?  Well, guess what ***I*** found by accident one day a while back?  Seems we have a secret room under the house, just full of all sorts of interesting stuff…..'*__

The closet door clicked softly and began to slide back on its track—

"Conan-kun?"  Rin's bright young voice made him jump.  "We need to get going--  if we don't make it home before Mom gets there she might decide to _*cook* and you KNOW what that's like—"_

The door stopped moving with a sudden, brutal jerk; it had opened scarcely half an inch.  From beyond it came a single anguished exclamation and hurrying steps.  "Aaack!  Okay, okay!  Hey, guys?  Ayumi?  We've gotta _*go*---"_

**_*Oh. Wow.*  Kaito_** felt his eyes pop open very, VERY wide in shock.  _*Jeeze, did Somebody up there suddenly declare this 'Be Nice To Kaito' Day?  Or maybe I got that loan on my karma I was wondering about?*  Ayumi's door slammed shut; the sounds of  the Detective Boys (and Girls) getting ready to leave filled all the available airspace for a few minutes, until their final farewells and the closing of the outer door signaled their departure.  Hopefully, anyway._

Kaito let the breath hiss out from his lungs, not really surprised to find that he had been holding it; no wonder he felt a bit dizzy.  Or maybe that was relief—he had fully expected one of those damned little anesthetic-darts at the very least, or maybe some sort of angry accusation….. but nope.  _*You got off easy this time, Thief Boy; but don't count on it lasting.  He knew, or *almost* knew that you were there—two seconds more and he would have been sure.*  One_ hand came slowly up to clasp his wounded arm as he shivered.  _*And… he left because Rin's mom was going to COOK?!?  God, how bad can she be??*  He_ blinked, then glared at the innocent-looking ball of fluff that was currently attempting to wash its ears down by his feet.  _*Maybe I should try feeding some of it to YOU, you little--*_

"Hei-san?  Hei-san, they're gone—"

_*Ayyyyyyyumi-chan!!!  Bathroom!!! NOW!!!*  As_ the door to the closet slid open and Kaito blinked in the room's light, he began struggling up from his makeshift hiding-place.  Ayumi eeped slightly as he seemed to burst (well, as much as a person could burst at a slow crawl) from the fallen clothes and heaped shoes; Spot shot past her in the sort of cartoon-character dead run that kittens all seem to have, even Kittens From Hell.  "Um, 'Yumi-chan?  Could you *please* help me up?  There's something I really need to take care of RIGHT now—"

It took some doing, but with his small apprentice's help and a great deal of desperation, Kaito made it into the bathroom and shut the door behind him—just barely in time.

**************************************************************************************************

The letter-box by the door read _KUROBA;_  Aoko had seen it a million times before, and she always noticed absentmindedly that the paint could use a little touching up here and there.  Japan's snows had done far more damage than the mild sun or pounding rain, making the black coating crack around the letters.  It had been painted white before, and the paler surface beneath showed through.

_*As analogies go, it's a little too obvious,*_ thought the Inspector's daughter irritably as she inserted the key.  Mentally she cursed her overactive imagination; what was she going to be doing next, reading fortunes in tea leaves? looking for omens in the flight of birds?

The door creaked as she opened it; vaguely she recalled Kaito's mother commenting that he needed to oil the hinges.  It didn't look like he would be able to do much around the house for a while—

--and why on earth was she thinking about things like *that*, anyway?  More distractions; lunch hadn't really helped much.  Slamming the door behind her with a little more force than was really necessary, Aoko grumbled to herself as she entered the silent, darkened house.

Kaito's home was easily as familiar to her as her own—almost more so, since she had spent so much time there since she was a kid.  Funny, though… now that she knew what she knew _(*and just what DO I know, really?  He hasn't told me everything yet--*) Aoko found herself looking around uneasily, as if the prosaic, well-known rooms had suddenly become transformed into Terra Incognito.  That notebook there on the kitchen counter—had Kaito used it to write down notes for a heist?  The scatter of screws and the small screwdriver on the breakfast table—what had they come from?  The Phantom Thief that her father stalked tended towards all sorts of mechanical devices—had they all been created by Kaito's father… or had __he….._

_*He's always been good with electronics and gadgets, always…..*_

Aoko shivered slightly; the house was too quiet, almost dead silent without the comforting presence of Kaito or his mom.  In fact, all she could really hear was the sound of his doves cooing on the back porch.   _*I should probably take care of feeding his doves--*  It wasn't like she didn't know how; she had been around them for ages and knew where everything was kept._

_*Let's see…..  Millet-and-sunflower-seed mix, grit with the extra crushed eggshells, those vitamin drops Kaito was using last month for their water—I don't see any, maybe he ran out--*  As_ the girl rummaged through the cabinet just inside the back door, the cooing on the porch outside increased in both volume and intensity; the doves could hear her and knew what she was doing.  _*There, that ought to be it…*  A few moments later found her filling the last of the dove's water-bottles in the kitchen sink, carefully rinsing the drip-tubes to make sure no algae had decided to grow there.  Doves got sick easily—you had to be careful about keeping their equipment as clean as possible, which wasn't exactly that simple considering some of their habits._

Scratchy little claws alighted suddenly on top of the young woman's head, announcing the presence of one of the more aggressive doves—the larger ones ate first and finished first as well.  Two more followed, landing on either shoulder and Aoko laughed despite herself—their feet tickled and she couldn't help it.  They cooed in her ears, demanding her attention; the boldest walked down her arm to perch on her wrist, looking for treats and scratches.

"You're as bad as _he_ is," she whispered, working her fingers gently beneath the neck-feathers at the back of the dove's head; it closed its ruby-red eyes, leaning hard against the scratch and letting out little hisses and chortling noises of content.  "Always wanting somebody to pay attention….."

_*…and you're all in white too… and you can fly…... and Kaito….. Kaitou…..*_  

Aoko's fingers slowly stilled; the bird opened one eye and let out an impatient sort of _oooooWooowt__! sound, but she paid no attention as her gaze came to rest on something she had seen a thousand times before—and, maybe, had never really seen at all—_

Kaito kept a lot of the odds and ends of his magic tricks (the ones that involved doves, anyways) in a box on the back porch; it was a small wooden crate filled with beaten-up hats, the occasional stained handkerchief, a couple of harnesses that had never quite worked out, several bottles of feather dye and clip-on false tails from the infamous Bright Purple Parrot incident…..

….and something small and metallic that glinted up at her from beneath a moth-eaten hatbrim—

Curiously she picked it up, turning the device over and over in her fingers.  It was very small, no more than an inch or so long, with a tiny lens and some sort of antenna; it seemed to be attached to a strap of some sort—maybe to go on a bird's leg?  And there was a bit that looked like a microphone…..

Abruptly she dropped it back into the heap of oddments and backed away a step or two, trying to ignore the fact that the beaten-up top-hat it landed beside had once been _white.  She didn't want to know, she just didn't want to know, she didn't, she __didn't—_

--but if she didn't, then what the hell was she doing?  Aoko sat down rather hard on the steps; the birds fluttered away from her to join the rest of their flock.  _*I could have called Dad—*_

_*--except that I just COULDN'T.__  I couldn't, not like that, not without giving Kaito a chance to explain.  I promised.  And not in front of that little girl…..  I've never really seen Kaito around little kids before; neither of us have had much experience with younger kids but she thinks the world of him, I could see it in her eyes.  And he treated her like a little sister.*_

She rested her head in both hands, pillowing her elbows on her knees.  It was all so damned confusing; everything, _*everything*  had flipped over and turned around, upside down and backwards and--  The day before she had been Aoko and he had been Kaito and they had been somewhere between being Best Friends and a couple of some sort… maybe… and now they were—_

--what?

--something else?  Did she have to lose what they had been, just to add this on?  Right, she hated Kid—had hated him when she was younger, and then when he came back all those years later and took her father back away from her again… she _hated him; that was going to be tough to let go of.  Even now, knowing that Kaito was… that she had SEEN him with the top hat and the monocle and those wounds, with that silky white cape and the rest of the outfit… and there were all those little gadgets and that weird-looking gun thing and—_

Three more of Kaito's doves apparently decided that she had been still long enough to make an acceptable perch; with a rush and flutter they landed on her bent shoulders and settled themselves, cooing as Aoko let out a sound somewhere between a growl and an groan.  Resting there with her eyes closed and her head down on her knees, it was suddenly very *easy* for Aoko to picture her friend working on the things she had seen.  He'd have that intent look on his face, like the one he always got when he was studying a new trick or figuring out a practical joke.  

(There had been a time or two in the last few months when she had even caught him looking at _*her*_ with that expression, as if she were some mystery that he had to interpret and solve…  It had made her quiver somewhere deep inside, that look; something, some part of her that Aoko had barely been aware of had raised its head from the depths of her heart and had looked back in silent answer.)

….. and now here she sat in Kaito's stupid dove-cote (if you could call it that; he kept the door to the outside open so they could fly in and out freely) with *stupid* bloodstains on her clothes, birds perching on her shoulders and a really STUPIDLY bewildering secret hammering inside her aching head.  She rubbed at her temples, grimacing; _*I wish I had somebody to talk to about this, it'd make everything a lot clearer if I could just--*_

***BRRRRP!!***BRRRRP!!***

_*--if I could just get a cellphone that DOESN'T MAKE ME JUMP A FOOT WHEN IT GOES OFF.__  Right; that'd help.*  Doves fluttered away again as the young woman pulled the offending object out of her pocket with a somewhat hunted feeling (did Kaito feel like that every time he saw a cop? she wondered) and tapped a button.  "Moshi moshi—"_

_"Nakamori-kun?__  I'm sorry to bother you like this, but I—"_

It took a moment for the voice to register.  Of all people…..  "Hakuba-kun?  Um… aren't you in school?"  She felt slightly stupid; of _course_ he was at school; it was only early afternoon—he'd be between classes.  Unconsciously her eyes strayed to the tiny device lying a few feet away in the crate of odds and ends, and Aoko saw her own hand go out involuntarily and tug the dirty white top-hat over to cover it.

Now, why had she just done that?

Never mind--  _"_I heard about your father being involved in an altercation last night—and there were problems at his office this morning?  Are you both all right?"_  Her classmate's British-accented voice held just the right amount of concern… it always did.  Hakuba Sugaru was always nice to her, always polite; he liked Aoko and made no bones about showing it either.  Privately she had wondered a time or two just how much his show of restrained charm had to do with his obvious rivalry with Kaito, but—_

_*Wait a minute.*  Several_ facts suddenly clicked together; now she really DID feel stupid.  Kaito and Hakuba…..  Oh.  Hakuba and all those little references to the Phantom Thief that he was constantly making, trying to annoy his sempai with—she had always thought he was just digging at Kaito's apparent admiration of the thief, not trying to……..

She felt sick; her stomach lurched with realization as she nearly dropped the phone.  Several more doves fluttered around her, coming to rest on the steps and on her shoulders and arms again as she stared at the cellphone.  Their cooing almost drowned out the insistent, nagging voice calling her name--  _"_Nakamori___-kun?  Nakamori?  Aoko-kun, are you still there?"_

"Uhhh—r-right, I'm fine.  I didn't know anybody else had heard about that…  Hakuba-kun?  How did YOU know?"  Aoko fought to steady her voice; the bird perching on her left shoulder reacted to the tension in her voice with ruffled feathers and an undovelike  _BBRRRRRTTT_! _sort of noise.  She ignored it and moved the receiver to the opposite ear._

_"I—ah well, I have my sources… my father's contacts down at the station, that sort of thing; and I was worried.  Where are you staying?  You shouldn't be alone, you know—"  The_ voice on the other end of the line sounded slightly confused about the background sounds but doggedly refused to be sidetracked.  There was a slight nasal sound to the voice, though, a sniffling, almost as if her classmate had developed a cold  _"_If you're in need of help, I'd be glad to send a taxi over for you….."_  The gentle request for her whereabouts was so carefully phrased as to sound helpful—which it probably was, really; Hakuba-kun DID seem to like her, and subterfuge wasn't his style at all.   He sniffled again, waiting._

"No, no… I'm fine.  I'm—staying with a friend and his mom—"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth Aoko could have bitten her tongue to get them back; _*HER mom, HER mom, I should have said HER mom!!!  Dammit, dammit, dammit--  and now I'm sounding like my dad again, too--*_  

The note of surprise in the voice was slightly jarring; she wondered if Hakuba-kun knew that his voice got more British when he got suspicious_…..  "—You are?  That's, ahh--- that's good, of course.  I'm glad to hear it….."  He was going to ask her, she just knew it.  For some reason Aoko felt her cheeks began to burn, which was ridiculous of course and why should she be getting embarrassed?  Hakuba-kun cleared his throat uncomfortably before going on_.  "…Nakamori-kun?  In case someone needs to reach you --who are you staying with?  That is… their number?  I could pass it along to our teachers…"_    Sniffle, sniffle…._

"Um, that's very—very nice of you, Hakuba-kun.  I'm staying with… Kaito-kun's mom.  You know that his house is right by mine, don't you?"  She hoped desperately that this sounded like this was a reasonable argument; from the abrupt silence on the other end of the line it didn't seem like her sempai thought so at all, so she rushed on:  "He's sick—throwing up and fever and everything, and my dad didn't want me to go out much if I could help it so I'm…. staying here.  In his house."  Feeling herself grow beet-red, she added "with his *MOM.*" with perhaps a little too much emphasis.  And then she fidgeted.

_"Oh."_

The British were absolute masters at expressing disfavor with a single word, weren't they?  She might as well have said 'I'm going to be sleeping in a cardboard box in a back alley with a bunch of slugs' for all the approval that came across.  Usually he was so polite…..  A bit of her earlier irritation broke through Aoko's tension, barbing her tongue just a little and making her add "After all, I know him better than anybody else, don't I?  I'll be fine here—and besides, he's a pain when he's sick; his poor mom shouldn't have to handle him the *whole* time, should she?"

_"….. I suppose; I can't imagine a worse patient, myself.   Throwing up, is he?"_  There was something in his voice now, a hint of guarded suspicion and interest that made her nerves even edgier than before.  _"No bruises or anything like that?"_

Her hands were beginning to sweat onto the cellphone, leaving damp patches; the plastic was slick against her palms as she replied with as much innocence as she could muster, "Bruises?  Noooo…. I mean, unless he's fallen out of bed in the last few hours….."  That sounded more than a little lame; with the haste of someone unused to lying Aoko immediately tried to extemporize.  "I, um, think he got a few scratches from my kitten—Spot, you remember?  My birthday gift?"  _*A few really BIG scratches,*_ she thought rather wildly…..

_"The kitten.__  Yes….."  _

Was it her imagination, or did he actually sound sort of—surly?  "What's wrong, Hakuba-kun?  Don't you like cats?"

There was a long hesitation on the other end of the phoneline; then the half-Britisher's voice came back reluctantly, a distinctly uncomfortable tone to his words.  _"Errr, actually I'm allergic.  Badly allergic.  VERY badly, in fact."_  From discreetly off-mike she could hear him blowing his nose again, and Aoko pictured the fair-haired, pale-skinned Hakuba-san with puffy eyes and a red, running nose and…..

It was a good thing just then that a number of doves decided to break out in a bird-ish sort of argument; their warbles and indignant cries pretty much muffled any giggles that escaped from behind Aoko's hands as her classmate continued on:  _"In any case, never mind; one can always take allergy medicines, after all…..  I don't suppose that Kuroba-kun is allergic as well, is he?"  If it had been anyone else, Aoko might have said that he sounded hopeful.  He sneezed._

"No, he's not; in fact," she answered almost cheerfully (it was rather a relief to be able to say at least ONE true thing) "the last time I saw Spot he was taking a nap in the same room with Kaito-kun."

_"Ah."_

One of Kaito's doves landed on her wrist with a flourish of wings; it cooed approvingly at her, then leaned over and pecked at the cellphone determinedly.  Peck, peck, peck…..  "Um, Hakuba-kun?  I've got to go—  I'm feeding his doves and they're getting a little out of hand—"

Peck, peck, peck—  _"Right, right; he shouldn't make you do things like that since you're a guest, but I suppose he--  well, never mind.  When will you be back at school?  And Kuroba-kun too, of course?"  A crackle of static almost obscured the last few words, but the annoyance filtered through (as did more sniffles)._

"I—don't know.  When this thing with my dad's cleared up, I guess…"  Aoko wiped a trickle of sweat from her forehead; her eyes lit up slightly as inspiration struck, and she added hastily, "… but I'll be picking up my homework from Keiko-kun; you know we have all the same classes together."  There, that took care of THAT little incipient offer of help.  "As for Kaito-kun—when he feels better, I guess."

A polite but noncommittal noise and another sneeze was all she received in answer; as Hakuba Sugaru expressed his best wishes for her and her father's—and Kaito's, rather grudgingly—best health and then hung up, Aoko considered the thought that he had sounded unnervingly suspicious.  Maybe she was just being paranoid….. or maybe not.  She knew he had tried to catch the Phantom Thief, everyone did.

Kaito especially…..

"Aaaargh!!!"

Stuffing her phone back into a pocket, the Inspector's daughter stood up so suddenly that the doves that had been gradually settling around her comforting human presence (they were used to Kaito, after all) seemed to explode into a cloud of wings and white feathers.  She slipped back through the door, shutting it forcefully behind her as if closing the lid of Pandora's box before anything *ELSE* could escape.

_*Kaito?  When I see you again in a few hours, you had better really, REALLY have a good story ready to tell… or we're both going to be sorry.  And I don't know which of us will be the sorriest, you or me….._

***************************************************************************************************

"Okay, let's go through 'em again….." murmured Kaito to himself, shifting painfully where he sat on the floor of Ayumi's room with his back against the wall beside her closet.  The little girl had gotten a bit drowsy after lunch—after all, she hadn't had much more sleep than he had—and had finally agreed to settle down for a couch-type nap with Spot until Rita-kun showed back up with dinner.  In the meantime, her teacher was taking inventory of his assets.

_*Twelve sonic grenades…  Seven flashbomb-smoke combos, nine smoke-only types, two heat/light emitters…..  Hang on, didn't I have a half-dozen or so of—oh yeah, THERE they are:  Nakamori Specials.  Wonder when I'll get the chance to test 'em out?*_  He fingered the small, black discs; they were something new that he and Jii had worked on together—tiny little mechanisms with remarkably powerful acoustic circuitry built into them, not to mention speakers…..  All he had to do was toss a smoke-grenade or something else equally confusing into a room, scatter a few of *those* around, pinch the neat little transmitter-button he had built to slip into the knot of his tie… and start _laughing….._

….. and his laughter would begin booming out at timed, three-second-overlapping intervals from every one of the 'Special' units.  He'd fill a room full of cops with maddening, echoing noise and be out the nearest exit before Nakamori could even *begin* to foam at the mouth.

_*Can't imagine why they find my laugh so annoying….. but I'm not gonna complain.*_  Kaito snickered to himself, fanning the discs out between the fingers of his good hand like coins in a magic trick.  _*Okay now, back to business.  What's left?  Well, there's the card-gun of course… got a pretty fair chunk of ammo for that; good.  Hmmm… three types of mini-explosives, the capsule kind….. two containers of flashpowder, two—no, three—incendiary clips…..??.....  Now where did I put those sleep-grenades?  _He was edgy enough that rest, at least for a little while, wasn't possible.  What he was doing was the Kaitou Kid equivalent of playing solitaire or reading a magazine:  just something to do to pass the time until Aoko came back.

_*Okay, that's the stock stuff.  What about my newest little toy?*_  The thief picked up something he had been working on so recently that it hadn't even been tried, just like the Nakamori Specials; it didn't look like much, just a flat white oval of matte-finished metal with a depression in the top and an aperture at one end, smooth and simple in design.  The other end was fitted with a small retractable lanyard for his wrist; it looked remarkably harmless.  However, all it took was one quick pressure on the top to fire a tiny dissolvable dart out capable of inducing nearly instantaneous sleep…..

Kaito hefted it, grinning to himself as he aimed it at an imaginary target about three feet off the ground and mock-fired:  _*Take that, Kudo!  Kick pinecones at ME, will you?  Nighty-night; bedtime for Conan-kun…..*_

Of course, he thought (stifling a yawn of his own), if he didn't get his butt in gear and OUT of Ayumi's bedroom as well as on with the business of healing up, he wasn't going to be using any of his gadgets any time soon.  And then there was Aoko to think about and whether or not she was going to tell her father about her little discovery—

It was too much to think about; what with bullet-holes, assassins, pint-sized detectives, the Pandora Gem *AND* the rest of his explanation looming over his near future it was enough to drive any Phantom Thief into gibbering mania.  So Kaito, in his own mercurial way, was dealing with the entire massive pile of problems by ignoring them and concentrating on the present.  Hence the inventory; there was no telling what he'd be doing after the rest of the explanation, so he might as well know what cards he had to play.  And it was so much easier to win when you knew just what aces you had hidden up your sleeve…..

_*Wonder what Aoko'd think of all this?  She saw me fish them out of my jacket, but I was taking 'em out in handfuls and I didn't empty my hat-compartments at *all* until she had left.  Didn't want to alarm her, anyway; it's one thing to know about me being Kid, but it's something else entirely to see the things I use to baffle and trick her own dad with.  This is hard enough without that.*_

He sighed, slipping the little stun-gun into his pocket; as small and unobtrusive as it was (the ovoid was scarcely half the length of his palm), it was the best defense he had with him, short of his wits.  _*And I sure as hell hope THEY'RE well-designed enough to get me through the rest of this evening,*_ he thought wryly, his good humor fading.  _*If they're not, then all I can really hope for is to contact Jii and ask Aoko to give me a day's head-start before she sets her dad on my trail.*_

Kaito scrabbled the fingers of his free hand through his hair, making it stand on end; every time his thoughts circled around to the Great Aoko Debate his head began to ache.  She had to be going through a lot of confusion right now—the Inspector's daughter had taken the morning's half of the explanation pretty calmly (for Aoko) but the matter wasn't settled yet, not by a long shot.  No way, not even close; she still had to hear HIS part in the whole bizarre mess.

_*And won't THAT be fun to tell?*  he_ thought, staring unseeingly at a sonic grenade.  _*So far I've kept everything nice and abstract—history's a safe sort of subject, no matter how weird it gets.  But tonight I'm gonna have to tell her about how I've been tricking her dad and giving him grief… and she's probably going to want my head on a platter.  Or stuffed and mounted on a plaque, maybe; she could give it to Nakamori as a Christmas present—he'd be freaking thrilled beyond words.*_  

Attempting to shake off morbid visions of his own stunned face a lá taxidermy, the young thief scooped his motley arsenal up somewhat awkwardly into his hat; small as the items were, there was no way he could fit them all into its compartments, so he settled for simply using the headgear as a container for everything except the card-gun.  _*That*_ he slipped into his free pants-pocket, making quite sure that the safety was on first.  Some of the tension eased up as he sat back; for some reason he felt a lot better with a bit of armament handy.  Maybe that little near face-to-face encounter with the Shrimp had shaken him up more than he had realized.

Kaito yawned again, a really bone-rattling yawn that made the muscles in his shoulder twinge; his body kept trying to take over and drag him back down into sleep.  Maybe another little nap wouldn't be such a bad idea…..  Nothing to do, really, until Aoko came back anyway…..  Easing himself carefully (and painfully, producing a number of muttered swearwords that would have impressed even Nakamori) down onto the carpet, he attempted to curl into something approaching a comfortable position.

_*Might as well sleep while I have the chance…..* _  His father's monocle lay on the carpet beside his hat, almost like a charm one might use to ward away bad dreams.  As his eyes lidded closed, Kaito's good hand slid around to the small inner pocket on the left side of his pants and the lump there.  Without taking it out, his fingertips lightly traced the shape of the thing inside:  a small pendent, nothing special really, unless you knew what you were looking at.

_*You've got one last chance to shine, Pandora; and then it's curtains for you.  Not sure what Aoko'll make of you, but you're my best hope to get her to believe me.  Funny… the thing that my father died for may also be the thing  that'll keep my butt out of jail—and if I'm really lucky (and she's really reasonable), it just may give me another chance, too, with Aoko.  I think you'd like that, dad; I really do.*_  

The gem seemed oddly warm through the cloth; as Kaito relaxed at last and sank down into sleep, he caught the faintest scent of roses before drifting off.

* * * * *

It was a little while later when Spot came padding down the hall to Ayumi's room; the kitten paused in the doorway in the manner of cats throughout history, not quite in the room nor quite out of it.  Blue feline eyes surveyed the sleeping thief coolly for a few moments; then the kitten stepped soundlessly forward, circling the figure that (for once, thought Spot) lay so quiet and relaxed.

Humans, in his opinion, needed to be taught how to take things easier.  If they weren't so stressed out over so many things, they'd certainly be better company… and of course, they could then devote more of their time to important things like petting him or providing a good place for him to curl up.  That little human-kitten on the couch, for instance—she had been so twitchy with dreams that she had woken Spot up; decorum was not to be expected from something so obviously untrained, but still, a cat had his standards.

He surveyed the sleeping human somewhat critically; rivalry was all well and good until the supply of comfortable spots to curl up ran low.  Spot didn't *like* the human, obviously; first off, he was another male—and _secondly,_ he was courting Spot's person; even a shut-eyed, week-old litter-runt could see _that little fact….. even if he hadn't done anything really *obvious* about it.  Apparently he was as slow as he was blind; couldn't he *tell* that Spot's person was interested and was waiting for him to make a move?_

Humans; they were so weird.  His mother had told him so, but had he listened?

Oh well--  The kitten circled the somnolent form one more time, sniffing briefly at the bandages and wrinkling a cute pink nose at the smells of blood, cordite and antiseptic.  It didn't look like the sleeper was planning on any unseemly movements; he was totally boneless, almost as artistically relaxed as a feline in his repose.  So—

Stepping carefully, Spot made his way to fit into the curve of the young male's body, echoing the human's position as he lay down.  The sleeping thief did not wake, but merely curled a little tighter, and the cat's whiskers twitched in satisfaction; fine.  So the male was good for *something,* anyway.  He made an acceptable backrest.

Moments later there was no other sound in the room besides two sets of breathing, deepening in sleep.

***************************************************************************************************

"NO, dad, I will *NOT* stay here," said Nakamori Aoko with what she was beginning to consider to be Saint-like patience.  "Look, you said yourself that it wouldn't be a bad idea for me to stay with Kaito—he's sick, he needs someone around to make sure he doesn't flush himself down the toilet or something, and…"  She made something of a show of looking around the Spartan room; "… I don't think I'd really be much of a help, do you?  I'd just get in the way."

Her father glared; his moustache bristled irritably as he opened his mouth to refute what she had said… and then he abruptly closed it as the sense of her statement penetrated his skull.  The safe-house he had been placed at wasn't much; just a bare room with a bed, a nightstand, one desk and a phone in a building that was currently masquerading as an office-supply warehouse.  From a couple of folding chairs, two other officers near the door eyed the ongoing argument with barely-concealed grins; the Inspector's daughter was a well-known sight around the station house, and watching her match tempers with her father was always a treat.

Especially when she won…..

"Still think you ought to at *least* have an officer assigned—" he grumbled, the bristling dying down a bit as he gave a snort that was by no means totally defeated.  It was bad enough, he thought, that he was stuck here in such a dump without even a TV; he was damned if he was going to spend the whole damned time worrying about his daughter—

"Oh, RIGHT.  *That'd* make me stand out like a sore thumb—I might as well paint "Cop's Daughter, Take Me Hostage" on my back and sell tickets for the chance to get me," she retorted sarcastically.  At the further droop of her father's moustache Aoko's eyes softened a bit, and she shook her head, leaning against the end of the bed across from where he sat at the tiny desk.  "It'll be okay—I'll stay out of sight as much as possible and I *promise* I'll check in with you several times a day, okay?"  She smiled a little, rather thinly.  "Besides, if I stayed, where would you put me?"

She had a point.  The bare little room didn't even have a bath-tub—just a tiny closet with a commode and shower.  Behind Nakamori's back one of the officers by the door made a surreptitious point-mark in the air as his partner grinned.  Aoko did her best to ignore the byplay, still smiling down at her father; she handed him the plastic bag she had been clutching as she straightened up.  "Here; I was nice enough to bring your shoes and some more clothes to you instead of leaving them on the doorstep like I said I would; now *you* promise to be careful, please?"  His daughter hesitated for a second, the anxious look in her eyes dimming the usual fire there.  "I know you've been in awful situations before, but… don't take any chances, okay?  Whoever those people were that shot at you, they—"

"I know, I know," he growled, looking angry and frustrated.  He jerked his chin towards the two cops by the door; "You think those two'll let me do anything useful?  Hell, no—  I'm just supposed to sit here on my thumbs and wait for some bright boy down at the stationhouse to decide it's safe for me to come back out—"

The two officers looked slightly sheepish.  "Sorry sir," mumbled one; the other merely shrugged.  They were stolid sorts, the kind that Nakamori's threats and thunders were unlikely to budge; the Inspector's daughter viewed them with an approving eye.

"If he tries to leave, steal his shoes," she told them with a rather sharp grin that was startlingly like her father's.  "And if THAT doesn't make him stay put, take his _pants;_ that ought to do it."  The two men blinked, then nodded slowly with appreciative gleams in their eyes as they glanced at each other; the guys down at the stationhouse would just *love* hearing about this later…..

Nakamori snorted in annoyance; this time the sound had defeat in it.  "Fine, fine; everybody's plotting against me.  Next thing you know that goddamned Kid'll be stopping by with donuts or something….."

His daughter flushed abruptly, her eyes dropping to the floor; Nakamori didn't notice as she rose to leave.  "Aoko?" he said a little plaintively as she headed towards the door.

"Uhh—what?"  Now why was she looking so flustered, anyway?

"I, uh, _know I was quitting smoking… but… with all this going on—and _those_ two over there both smoke—"  Nakamori did his best to look somewhat pathetic; it wasn't difficult, given the subject.  He was out of nicotine gum, the patches were a thing of the past, and the other cops refused to let him have any of their cigarettes due to Not Wishing To Be Hit By Nakamori-san's Daughter's Mop.  "I, errrrrr, don't suppose I could get you to pick me up a couple of packs of—"_

"No."  She glared; he winced.

"Just ONE pack?" he wheedled; "Look, Aoko-chan—"  _*__Goddamn it, I should've stuck with the @#$%# pipe!!*  He had dropped it in favor of cigarettes a couple of months earlier._

"NO."  And she turned to stare down at the seated cops.  "And YOU two can't smoke either, not here in the room… or else." 

"Uhh—yes'm."  The two officers looked at each other nervously, not daring to ask what the 'or else' was.  You didn't ask that sort of thing of a Nakamori, in case you found out.  It was seldom pretty and almost always unique.

One of the officers rose to escort the Inspector's daughter out to her taxi; she frowned over her shoulder at her father.  "Call me on my cell if you need anything, okay?"  Her face softened at his rather despondent look, and she took a moment to rummage around in her backpack.  "Here—I brought you some things to read; I'll call you later tonight, okay?  Jaa….."

Grumble, grumble.  Nakamori took the proffered stack of paperbacks without paying any attention to what they were.  As the door closed behind his daughter and her escort's back, the Inspector slumped back into his desk-chair with a muttered curse at all assassins and Phantom Thieves alike.  The other officer made a peculiar noise, a sort of muffled snort, and Nakamori glanced at him irritably.  "What?"

"Uh, n-nothing, sir…"  The man seemed to be struggling to hold back a laugh; the head of the Kaitou Kid Task Force followed his eyes, his gaze dropping to the books his daughter had given him.

_*Oh no…..*  He_ groaned as he read the titles:  _Tsuki_ Ni Hoero… Fruits Basket… Utena… Full Moon Wo Sagashite… InuYasha… Count Cain… Kimi Dake No Devil…..  _"Shojo manga.  Wonderful.  My daughter hates me.  @#$%&!!!"  Nakamori slumped even further in his uncomfortable chair and tried to ignore the muffled sputterings of the other officer.  He raised his head and glared a patented Death Glare at the man.  "Listen:  you tell ONE PERSON about this and I'll make your life a living hell, I __promise you.  Got that?"_

The other man fought back a snicker that would have ended his career (if not his life) _right there.  "Perfectly, sir."  There was silence in the room while Nakamori peered suspiciously at the volumes as if expecting them to bite him; after a moment he grunted._

"Tripe, pure tripe—but there's nothing else to do.  Pick one—" he held the books out to the other man, who flinched back.  Nakamori glared at him, his expression rather evil.  "Oh, go ahead… in fact," he added, showing all his teeth in a sharklike smile, "I _insist."_

The man swallowed, gingerly accepting the copy of _Full Moon Wo Sagashite_.  His partner was not going to like this…..

In fact, when he returned to the room after escorting the Inspector's daughter to her taxi, he burst into guffaws of laughter at the sight of two seasoned officers with their noses stuck in volumes of Girl's Stories.  However, his jocularity only lasted up until the point when Nakamori shoved the copy of _Utena__ into his hands and snarled "Shut up and read, moron."_

***************************************************************************************************

Five o'clock came and went, along with Rita-kun, who brought with her containers of take-out miso ramen and a treat for them both of chocolate ice-cream; Kaito remained curled up oblivious to everything on the little girl's bedroom floor, deeply asleep and unaware of Rita-kun's arrival and eventual departure.  As the young woman scooped her books into her backpack, she glanced down the hall inquisitively towards her charge's closed bedroom door.  "Ayumi-chan?  Are you ever going to show me that magic trick?  You were practicing it earlier in your room—"

The child swallowed a hasty bite of noodles, eyes growing wide in alarm.  "Uhhh—not yet.  I still need more practice…."  She wiped at her mouth and looked imploringly up at the American; "Don't open my door yet, okay?  Please?"

The teenager shrugged, an indulgent smile crossing her face as she hefted her backpack.  "Okay, but this better be good; I expect to be astounded and mystified or I get my money back, right?"  She picked up her purse as the little girl giggled.  "I'll be back at about nine-thirty, okay?  Keep the door locked, don't let anybody in, and call me _right_ away if there's any problem—okay?"  She paused by the door, looking slightly guilty.  "I don't really feel too happy about leaving you all alone like this… but I told your mom about my study group at the library and she said it would be all right; are you *sure* you don't mind, Ayumi-chan?  You could come with me—"

Ayumi shook her head firmly, still clutching her chopsticks; she slid down from her chair and stood on tiptoe to put her bowl in the sink.  "Uh uh; I'll be okay--- and besides, I've got homework to do for school too…"

"You could bring it with you and do it at the library along with us—" wheedled the young woman; she chuckled.  "That way you could make sure we behave—older students are *terribly* noisy, you know.  The librarian yells at us all the time."  She unlocked the door, waiting in the doorway for the child to make up her mind.

The gradeschooler bit her lip, then shook her head again.  At any other time she would have jumped at the chance—she loved going to the library with its countless shelves of books on every subject imaginable, especially since she had gotten interested in magic tricks (there were books there on the subject that she couldn't even _read_ yet!); but not tonight.  Not with her friend and teacher asleep on her rug, all curled up with Spot…..  Oh; that reminded her of something she had thought of earlier, come to think of it.  "Noooo; that's okay.  I'll be fine—um, Rita-kun?  Do you know if my mom left her camera or took it with her?"

The young woman blinked, stepping out into the hallway.  "I—oh, right; yes, she left it on the counter by the phone.  Guess she decided at the last minute not to take it with her.  Why?  Do you want me to take a picture of you later on, when you perform your trick for me?"

Ayumi's eyes lit up gleefully at the excuse.  "Bingo!"

* * * * *

Ten minutes later, after Rita-kun had gone on her way…..

_***FLASH!***_

_click-whirrrrr__….. zzsshhhhhk!_

Ayumi tiptoed out of her room, closing the door behind her and peering at the still-dark Kodak photo as it slowly developed.  Her 'kaasan used the camera for her work, but she didn't think that she'd mind Ayumi using just _one shot….._

…..and didn't Hei-san look _cuuuuuute__, all curled up around Spot like that?  It really was a good picture; he had his top-hat and that funny eyeglass thing (what did he call it?  a monocle?) sitting in front of him as well, and his sleeping face could be seen quite clearly.  The gradeschooler giggled to herself and then headed down the hall to put the camera away, clutching what was probably the world's most incriminating photo in one small hand._

* * * * *

"Conan-kun?"  Rin's voice carried clearly as she leaned out of the front window of her father's office; it was nearly dark, and the boy clutching his skateboard on the sidewalk below squinted against the setting sun's rays as he looked up.  "Where are you going?"

He hesitated before answering, and Rin frowned down at him; she knew that slightly shifty-eyed look, both from his time as Shinichi _and as Conan—it was one thing that definitely had not altered in the least.  "You're going somewhere I'd be unhappy to find out about, to do something I wouldn't want you to do, right?" she answered herself somewhat fatalistically.  "Fine; I'll be right down."_

"Uhh—but--!"  He was talking to a closing window; with a sigh, Edogawa Conan resigned himself to waiting, wondering all the while just when Rin/Ran had become so stubborn.

_*Oh well…*_

It wasn't a long wait; she was down, still shrugging a light jacket on over her jeans and t-shirt as she pattered down the stairs.  "So where are we going?" she asked, fixing him with a Look that he recognized from any number of instances when he had tried to pull one over on her as Conan *and* Shinichi.  "And don't think you're going to leave me behind—remember the LAST time you slipped off without me to check something out?"

He winced, dropping the skateboard to the sidewalk.  "I kind of doubt I'll run into a maniac who wants to shut me up in a file cabinet *this* time," he muttered, but a rueful grin made his lips twitch as she put her hands on her hips and gave him a warning glare.  Rin looked awfully cute when she got mad; he couldn't help but smile reluctantly as the young girl/woman shook her head at his obtuseness.

She stuck her tongue out at him, annoyance forgotten as he laughed back.  Really, they weren't fooling anybody…..

"So where ARE we going?"  She climbed onto the skateboard behind him, clutching him gingerly around the waist; Conan braced himself, folding his own hands over hers for security (well, it made a good excuse, anyway).  As the turbines beneath the board started she squeaked slightly and held on tighter.

"Surveillance" was all he answered as they took off in a rattle of wheels and pavement.

A little later the skateboard slowed to a halt through the lengthening shadows.  "—and my dad is _STILL trying to be overprotective; it's kind of funny, in a way," finished Rin, letting go of Conan's waist a little reluctantly; her face was a bit pink but her eyes sparkled from enjoyment of the ride.  It was one of the things she actively loved about becoming pint-sized again:  riding on the skateboard.  Rin was still trying to talk Professor Agasa into trying some sort of powered rollerblades, a concept which made Conan flinch and Agasa hurriedly change the subject when she brought it up.  "You'd think he wouldn't keep forgetting just who I really am, but even when I beat him this afternoon at cards he kept scowling and saying it was dumb luck—that no 'little kid' could beat his game."  She rolled her eyes, pulling her jacket a little tighter around her small frame against the cool evening wind.  "I had to beat him twice more before he'd take that back, and he should know better; I've __always been luckier than him at cards."  She snorted._

Conan gave her a sympathetic look as they walked on, pushing his glasses back up his nose.  "Just wait 'til you see how MY mom reacts; did I tell you she and dad'll be coming for a visit next month?  Dad finally turned in that Night Baron draft he was working on, and I think he's trying to hide from his publishers for a few weeks before they start bugging him for the first rewrite…"  He started down the block, keeping in the shadows.  "What were you playing, anyway?  Poker?  Heh; thought so…..  He really _*should*_ have known better."

Rin pushed her windblown hair back out of her face with a rueful look that anyone familiar with Mouri Ran would have recognized.  "At least *your* mom isn't buying you cute little outfits with fuzzy-animal motifs on them; I never thought Mom'd go so—so SOPPY on me!  I don't remember her being like that when I was small the first time around."

As they rounded a corner, Conan chuckled.  "Maybe she needs another kid," he suggested whimsically; beside him, Rin blanched and made a sort of 'eeep!' sound; he danced sideways as she mock-kicked at him.  "Hey!  Just joking, just joking—your dad would have a heart attack if THAT happened—"

"—and so would I," she said darkly.  "One kid in the family's enough right now, thanks very much."

He laughed softly, then caught her hand up and pulled her over to a small wall beside a very tall apartment building.  "Boost me up, will you?  I'll pull you up from the top—"

Doubtfully Rin made a stirrup of her hands; one eyebrow went up as she regarded the apartment building.  "Ummm… why are we staking out Ayumi's building?  Is there something I should know?"

He grunted slightly as he hoisted one short leg over the stucco retaining wall, straddling the top and reaching a hand down to help her up.  "Tell you in a minute—we need to get out of sight first—"

Settling in as comfortably as possible among the ornamental bushes on the other side of the raised embankment, the boy kept a sharp eye on the building's front entrance as he spoke quietly.  "You remember that little talk I had with a certain Phantom Thief in the park the other day, the one where he swore he'd keep Ayumi-kun out of his, err, activities?  Apparently he had a change of plans….."

Swiftly he explained what he had suspected, seen, and concluded; as he talked, part of him noted clinically that Rin's—Ran's—breathing was speeding up, that her face was getting rather red, and that she was starting to get the same sort of _look_ in her eyes that she had had just prior to beating the crap out of that murderer they had run across back when she lost her memory.  A small, gleeful part of him decided that if they ended up confronting Kaitou Kid he would turn _*Ran* loose on him; the thief wouldn't stand a chance, so long as he stayed within kick or punch-range, as Rin-kun tended to be a wee bit protective of Ayumi._

(And now she was muttering some things under her breath that he would _never have suspected her of picking up from her father…..  That was his Ran, all right; calm, practical, and ready to turn anybody who threatened her friends into karate-chopped sushi in a heartbeat.  __*Go Ran!* he cheered privately, fighting to keep his face straight.)  "…Anyway… if Kid comes out, I want to follow him; I got a decent look at his face in the park, so I should be able to recognize him.  And THIS time," he said softly, his eyes fixed on the entranceway, "we're not under any kind of truce; we're outside the park.  All bets are off."_

"Good," said the small girl beside him fiercely, her eyes angry.  There was a determined jut to her chin that spoke volumes to Conan/Shinichi, warning him that any attempt to divert her from her course would NOT be well received.  She had always been like this—stubborn, stubborn, and more stubborn; he was just lucky this time that she wasn't after *him.*

So they settled down to wait…..

The street lights had been on for no more than a quarter-hour when a young woman a bit older their own prior-APTX4869 age showed up, arriving in a taxi.  She was a fairly slight person with thick, unruly dark hair, wearing a somewhat harried expression along with her jeans, backpack and sweatshirt—nobody unusual, she might have lived anywhere in the building.  What _WAS unusual was the way that she walked straight to the visitor's buzzer, pushed the button… and was answered quite clearly by one Yushida Ayumi in apartment number B1073….._

_*So he has an accomplice.  Not too surprising—if he's hurt, he'll need help getting wherever he's going.*_  Conan's eyes narrowed as he watched the young woman enter the building; she looked relatively harmless… but then, so did _Rin._  And so did _he__, for that matter, but any number of people in jail could tell you differently._

Beside him Rin's soft voice whispered, "She's visiting Ayumi?  Why?  Do you know her—is she that girl who's looking after Ayumi 'til her parents get back?"

He scowled for a moment, mind working furiously as it sorted through Ayumi-kun's file in his mental database.  "No—she's not Rita-kun; I've met her a couple of times before.  I don't know this girl… but…"  For some reason the young woman's face evoked a dim, faint memory, one associated with… mistaken identity? and rain, and _Sonoko,_ of all people?  He tried to grasp it, but it was like attempting to catch smoke.  _*Damn.*___

Rin was watching her too; there was a peculiar look on her face, a highly puzzled look… she seemed to be trying to remember something as well.  "I….. she looks sort of—_familiar?"_

"Really?  Think—where from?  She has to be somebody we both saw… with Sonoko, maybe?"  Conan's voice was low and a little sharp as he watched the young woman close the heavy glass lobby-doors behind her.  "School, maybe?  A store somewhere, or in a crowd?"

She bit her lip, indecision fighting its way across her face.  "I don't—I really don't know.  She just looks sort of familiar, that's all."  Frustrated, Conan sat back among the shrubbery; she brushed his cheek with her fingertips, looking apologetic and a little downcast.  "Sorry…"

He shook his head.  "Doesn't matter; if she's an accomplice, we'll figure out who she is sooner or later."  Conan's glasses flashed in the dim illumination of the streetlights and building security-lights as he looked back at the girl beside him.  "You _do realize that we may know who Kid is before the night's over, don't you?"  At Rin's widened eyes he smiled a distinctly predatory smile that looked very Shinichi-ish on his young face, turning towards the building again._

The girl shivered a little, hugging her knees to her chest.  "That girl, though—I wonder who she is?  A partner, a relative—a girlfriend, maybe?"  She followed his gaze, her head lifting as she stared up towards Ayumi's balcony high, high above.

One of Conan's eyebrows went up as he turned his head to look back at her, a speculative look in the dark blue eyes behind his glasses.  "Kind of hard to imagine the Phantom Thief having a girlfriend, but he *does* have a sort of cheering section of female fans….."  At Rin's annoyed snort, he snickered.  "Well, he _does, though I've no idea why.  Why would anybody cheer on a thief?"_

At that she smiled rather wryly, a woman's smile on a little-girl face that understood only too well why people would cheer on an extraordinary young man, no matter what he was doing.  "Everybody likes a show, and he's awfully good at that sort of thing, isn't he?  He's famous, he does outrageous things with a lot of flashiness and… well, he outwits people and—oh, don't look like that; I know, I know, he outwitted YOU too."

A disgruntled mutter that ended in "….. should've put that pinecone upside his _head_—" was her reply; she rolled her eyes and continued.  "Oh well; nothing to do but wait for them to come out now.  Hope they're not too long—"

Grumble, grumble; Conan-kun tended to hold grudges.

Rin eyed him, a spark of mischief in her smile as it widened.  "Just think about arresting him; that ought to make you feel better," she suggested.  Then her smile faded and she hugged her knees a little tighter.  "Ayumi-kun, though….."

"I know."  His voice was very quiet.

"Why would she hide him?  I know he's her friend, but—aren't WE her friends too?  I thought she trusted us—"

Conan stared up at the building before them, looking frustrated.  "She does, but……"  He was silent then, shaking her head.

The girl beside him sighed, leaning back against a bush; a leaf drifted down to perch on top of her head like a kitsune's charm.  "I guess we'll have to figure that part out when we come to it; in the meantime, I know what we can do while we wait—" she murmured, dimpling with the same Ran-look that he had known most of his life.  Her eyes sparkled mischievously in the dim light as she pulled out a small, oblong package from her jacket-pocket and fanned its contents out, smiling innocently at him.  "Care for a game of Poker?"

From behind Conan's eyes Kudo Shinichi snorted with laughter, accepting the deck.  "Only if I deal," he answered firmly, beginning to shuffle.

***************************************************************************************************

TO BE CONTINUED…..

**_YSABET'S NOTES:  Okay!  On to Chapter 9! It'll be up in a couple of days, I promise.  Hmmm; how many of you out there would like to see Kazuha brought into this?  I've already planned to bring Heiji back in, but shall I include Kazuha too? and maybe a little romance?  Besides the bit I already have brewing, I mean….._**


	9. And Evaluations

**_YSABET'S NOTES:  Okay!  Straight into the waffy bits, chaaaaaaarge!!!  Hope I didn't overdo it….._**

****

**_Chapter 9:  …And Evaluations_**

"Shhhhhhhh—" cautioned Ayumi with a finger to her lips as she let Aoko in, closing the door very quietly behind them; "Hei-san's asleep."

As Aoko gently slid her backpack off, she paused; one eyebrow went up in annoyance, but she followed quietly as the little girl tiptoed down the hall to push her bedroom door open.  It was a good thing she did, too, because the sight that lay before her made it worth her while.

Kaito lay curled up on the carpet in the dimly-lit room, his head pillowed on his good arm; his breathing was slow and even in sleep, causing one untidy lock of hair to flutter where it fell in front of his nose.  Aoko slowly knelt beside him, brushing the shaggy strands back; his forehead was rather warm but the skin beneath her fingers felt smooth and dry, not damp with fever.

Those absurdly long eyelashes of his—really, it was unfair how they threw spiky shadows across his cheekbones, unfair how they defined the shape of his eyes even in sleep.  Hardly aware of what she was doing, Aoko drew one finger down from his forehead and traced it along Kaito's jawline, tangling for a moment in another lock of hair; he did not stir.

"Doesn't he look cute?  Should we wake him up?" stage-whispered the child behind her.

"No," she said softly, standing up and moving back towards the door; "Let him sleep a little longer; we can wait for a bit.  Ayumi-kun?  I washed your rug and towels and things; let's go get them from my backpack, okay?"

"Hmmm?  Oh, okay."  The little girl peered over the young woman's shoulder, then looked around the room.  "I wonder where Spot-chan is?  He was taking a nap with Hei-san a little while ago….."

As she closed the door quietly behind her, Aoko chuckled softly.  "I wish I could have seen that."  The cat in question mewed imperatively from under the couch in the living room, making Ayumi go bounding in to scoop him up for a hug; Spot endured this with a grunt, then squirmed to get down.

The child smiled up at her guest, one hand tucking a loose strand of hair behind her usual hairband.  "I can show you—I took a picture.  Want to see?"  From her pocket she pulled out a slightly creased photo, offering it eagerly.  "Look, he's all curled up with your kitten…"

Aoko _DID look, and her eyes grew wide.  A more damning picture would have been hard to take, given the circumstances; _*Let's see, there's the hat and the monocle, white pants, the butt of his card-gun sticking out of one pocket…..  My father'd just **LOVE** to see this.*_  "Ayumi-kun?" she asked quietly, feeling a kind of leadenness in the pit of her stomach, "Can I keep this?  Please?"  The child considered for a second, then nodded.  The Inspector's daughter slipped it into her jeans pocket, feeling as if the photo was glowing right through the fabric.  _

Two thoughts were warring in her mind; _'I should give this to dad'_ kept banging against _'Kaito needs to destroy this',_ making her head hurt all over again.  She realized uneasily that the explanation she was going to hear (and she WAS going to hear it; if Kaito didn't wake up soon, she'd just have to take matters into her own hands) was probably not going to make anything easier.

Maybe she _had better start things without Ayumi being there; if Kaito had anything to tell her that would upset the child…..  "Ayumi?  I'm going to let him sleep for about fifteen more minutes and then wake him up; in the meantime, why don't you show me those magic tricks you said he taught you?"  She smiled encouragingly down at the little girl, who practically bounced in place with delight._

"Okay!..... um, can I practice for a few minutes first?"

A moment later, Aoko was easing open the bedroom door again; from the living room a muttered litany of "This card goes on the bottom, and then THIS one goes here… no, it's the other way around, I think….." kept time to her footsteps as she crossed the carpet and knelt back beside the sleeping thief again.

The name _'Kaito' was actually on her lips, she had actually drawn breath to speak… when she paused for a second and *really* took a good look at him….._

How had she missed the ways that he had changed over the last year or so?  Had he _always_ looked like this, all lean and strong even bandaged up and sleeping?  Kaito had shed the tattered remnants of his shirt by now, and the light from the hallway gave his skin a faint sheen as if he had been gilded.  Long, smooth muscles ran beneath the skin of his shoulders, and as his chest rose and fell with breath Aoko's eyes lingered on the strength evident in his good arm, in the grace of his sleeping form.

_*It's just normal, physical attraction,*_ she told herself firmly, resisting the temptation to stroke his shoulder with a fingertip and see if his skin was as smooth as she remembered it to be.  _*So you're just noticing that Kaito's a good-looking guy; so what?  He's still Kaito.  And you're not JUST noticing it now—you've been thinking about that sort of thing for a while, and  I'll bet lots of other girls at school have noticed, too.*_  If that was supposed to be a comforting thought, she decided that she was missing the point somewhere.  She didn't LIKE the notion that other women had been looking at her friend, at her Kaito.

_*'MY Kaito'?__  Did I really just think that?  I did, didn't I?*  She blushed, but did not turn away; instead, her gaze traveled along the planes of his face, following the sweep of jawbone down into his strong neck and the chest that had broadened out so over the last year.  *_It's not exactly a new thought either, not at all.*_  It wasn't unwelcome, either; in fact, the idea of Kaito getting attached to someone else was so—so __alien in a weird sort of way as to be far more unsettling.  It just didn't seem natural, not at all._

_*I think I'd hit him with something harder than a mop.  And then—I don't know what I'd do then.  Join a Buddhist convent or something.*_

Kaito sighed in his sleep, turning just a bit more onto his back; a wince ran across his familiar face as he did so, and Aoko held her breath.  But he didn't wake up; for a moment his brows drew down in what looked like pain, but then the sharply-defined features relaxed again and the young woman watching him slowly exhaled.  She was breathing in the same rhythm; was that a deliberate thing on her part, or had her body simply adapted to what made it the most content?  Maybe she should listen to herself more often.

He looked so tired.   And that lock of hair was still in his eyes.  Gently Aoko reached down and flicked it aside, wondering if she should wake him up after all.

And then he shifted again, stirring so slightly that if she had not been watching his every breath she would not have noticed; and his eyes slowly opened as he looked straight at her.

Dark blue eyes, familiar eyes, Kaito's eyes; eyes she had known for so long and had seen so many, many times that she knew their color far better than she knew her own.  And they crinkled, smiling up at her, glad to see her as he awoke.

"…mmphgl…..  Aoko…?"  He yawned, the yawn turning into a stretch; the stretch turned into an "OWowww--!" as he used muscles that would have preferred not to be used, and involuntarily he grimaced in pain.  "…Fell asleep, didn't I?"  He rubbed his eyes, still lying down.  "What time is it?" 

She remained kneeling by his side, wondering if her face was still pink.  Probably; but the room was in semi-darkness, lit only by the hall-lighting and the dim glow coming in from the balcony.  Of course, a Phantom Thief would almost certainly be quite good at seeing in the dark, wouldn't he?  

_*Never mind.  Sometimes I think too much.*_  "I don't know—maybe a bit after six or so.  How do you feel?"

He stretched (and winced) again, but remained lying on the floor rather than getting up.  "Not too bad, I guess.  Aoko?"

"What?"

"Why were you just sitting here in the dark, staring at me?"

Oh; now she _WAS blushing.  The Inspector's daughter could feel the heat in her face, and tried to cover it up with a mask of her usual irritability.  "Baka—I wasn't staring at you, I was waiting for you to wake up."  She snorted in affront; "I've got better things to do than just sit here looking at you….."  Her voice trailed off as he smiled at her, not his usual grin but a slower kind of smile that made something inside her flutter just a bit.  She glared, trying to cover *that* up as well.  "What?"_

The smile widened.  "Oooookay, you haven't been sitting here staring at me—so I'll lie here and stare at _you."  It was hard to tell in the shadowy room if Kaito was blushing or not, and anyway Aoko was too busy trying to keep from looking too stupid (what with her jaw dropping and all).  For once she was speechless, and the thief beside her took advantage of the silence as he continued on blithely.  "Besides, I don't know how long I'll be seeing *anybody* without looking through prison bars, do I?  So I'd better do my looking now."  _

His smile tipped past the mark into the familiar grin, but that flutter inside Aoko didn't seem to have noticed.  "Do you really think I'm going to tell my dad?" she asked, her voice a little shaky.

Kaito yawned again.  "I don't know.  Are you?"  His voice was as casual as always, but she could hear the tension behind the words.  "You should, y'know; he's a cop, you're a cop's daughter—it's the main reason I never told you anything about this."  Slowly he pushed himself up with his good arm to a sitting position; "I didn't want you to have to choose—"

"Choose?"

Sadness in the dark blue eyes, just for a second before he turned to look away towards the balcony; it put his face in profile.  "Between loyalties.  Between me and your father.  Y'see… I always figured that I'd come out second, and that was how it *ought* to be, really; I know that what I do is illegal and immoral and all that.  But making the choice—that'd _hurt you, and I didn't want you to have to hurt.  So I didn't tell you, and you didn't know, and you didn't have to choose, and you didn't have to hurt."  Kaito sighed; the small sound carried something so heavy with it that it made Aoko's heart ache.  But when he turned back towards her, there was a crooked little smile on his lips.  "What's the old saying?  'If it ain't broke, don't fix it'?"_

**_*Oh.*  So_** that was why.

Irrationally the whole idea of his trying to keep her ignorant for her own sake made her angry; Aoko told herself fiercely that the pricking in her eyes came from fury, not tears.  "Kaito, you—you moron!  I can choose for myself, you know—what right do you have to make up my mind for me?!?"  She was leaning forward now, close enough to see her reflection in his startled eyes.  "I make my OWN decisions—nobody else!  And who said I had to choose *anybody*, anyway, baka?  I could just keep my mouth shut if I wanted to—"

"—Aoko, you couldn't keep your mouth shut if somebody used a _wall-stapler on it," he interrupted, laughing but beginning to get angry himself.  "And anyway, you _*know*_ you'll choose your dad's side—he's your dad; why _wouldn't_ you?"  A faint note of pain was strung through that sentence like a piece of thin wire; but Kaito continued on as if it hadn't been there, sitting up a little straighter.  "If you had half a brain you'd—"_

"If I had half a brain I'd be using it to HIT YOU OVER THE HEAD with!" she snapped, leaning even further forward until they were nearly nose-to-nose.  _*Ooooooh, he drives me CRAZY sometimes!!_  "You are without a doubt the most idiotic, asinine, _reckless piece of—"_

Now *he* was snapping back; his face was filled with an odd mixture of amusement and annoyance.  "—like you can _talk, Aoko?  Who came charging over here this morning without even _wondering_ if it'd get you into trouble?  If you had just left well enough alone last night instead of sticking your nose in where it doesn't—"_

"Don't tell ME where to stick my—"

"You're _ALWAYS getting into other people's—"_

And Kaito lost his balance as he leaned even further forward, falling over with a yelp to land with one hand against Aoko's shoulder.  They both froze; face to startled face, scarcely more than a hand's length apart, their breaths mingled together; the Inspector's daughter swallowed, her widened eyes staring straight into Kaito's.  Suddenly anger became transmitted into another, entirely _different_ impulse, one that she had thought about any number of times lately but never had courage enough to act upon, not quite…..

But…

_…there was no time like the present….._ and all she had to do was lean forward, just a little bit…..

"Why don't you kiss him?"

The small voice was cheerful, highly interested—and coming from directly behind Aoko's head (rather than from_ inside_ it like she had thought at first).  She yelped involuntarily and fell over backwards herself, Kaito tumbling forward to sprawl with a curse half into her lap as Ayumi looked on curiously from her bedroom doorway.  She surveyed the two, a little puzzled but willing enough to encourage them on.  "That's what people on TV do when they get that close together—"

They both backpedaled rather frantically, both figuratively and literally; Kaito sort of rolled sideways out of Aoko's lap as she scrambled to her feet.  Ayumi flicked on the overhead light; the temperature in the room seemed suddenly to be a bit too warm for both adults concerned as they sputtered simultaneously:

"Um—we were just— we— I mean—"

"H-heh, uh, 'Yumi-chan, we weren't—"

The child shook her head, hands on hips; "Hei-san, most people yell at each other and then they kiss and make up," she informed him rather loftily, explaining The Facts Of Life As Seen By Yoshida Ayumi.  "That's what my 'Kaasan and Tousan do, anyway.  You two just yelled at each other again, so why don't you—?"

"Umm….."

"Errrr….."

Ayumi rolled her eyes, apparently giving up on her friends as total idiots.  "Never mind; you can figure it out later.  Aoko-san, would you like something to drink?"  The young woman nodded dumbly.  "Okay—Hei-san, I've got some ramen for you, so I'll heat it up in the microwave and be right back in a minute.  Then you can change clothes and eat, and _THEN_ you can tell us the rest of the stuff about you being Kaitou Kid, 'cause we've been waiting *ALL DAY LONG.*"  With that the little girl headed back down the hall, having organized the world to her satisfaction.

For a long moment the two studied their toes; Aoko was still quite red-faced, while Kaito seemed to have a noticeable twitch at the corner of his mouth.  After several remarkably stretched-out seconds had passed, they both spoke up at about the same time:

"Um… I'm sorry—"

The simultaneous apology brought both heads up, Kaito's from where he sat cross-legged on the carpet and Aoko's from where she stood before him.  Two pairs of eyes met, looked away—and then looked back; this time they remained rather shyly in eye-contact, each smiling just a little.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you," said the young woman quietly; a reluctant tremor of laughter flickered through the words as she continued, "but you always know which buttons to push to get me mad.  You always have…"

He half-grinned a little ruefully, ducking his head a bit.  "Yeah, well, I shouldn't have lost my temper so fast."  Kaito scratched his head, looking embarrassed (but not entirely unhappy with the turn that the conversation had taken).  "I'm sorry too….."  Rummaging sounds and the electronic _beep!beep!_ of a microwave announced that Ayumi had things under control in the kitchen; Kaito's eyes strayed towards the doorway and he chuckled.  "'You can figure it out later'…..  She's really something, isn't she?  'Ayumi the Astounding'—"

Aoko laughed back, and the sound seemed to clear the awkwardness from the air; the things that weren't being said (like 'Were you _really going to kiss me?', for instance) were maybe a little louder than before, but neither minded.  And the silence that followed was a lot more comfortable than it had been too; as Kaito sat back against the carpet and dropped his gaze with a sigh, Aoko's own eyes lingered a bit wistfully on his bowed head._

Her thoughts were chaotic.  _*I can't believe I almost--*_

_*--but--*_

_*--this would be an awful time for that sort of thing, wouldn't it?  Wouldn't it?*_

_*--it would, but--*_

_*--maybe later--*_

_*--did I really just think that--?*  She_ swallowed, feeling her pulse beating in her throat.  It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, and neither was the memory of Kaito falling against her.  Aoko wondered silently where her common sense had gone, and then decided that, all of a sudden, she really just didn't' care; she had better things to worry about.

* * * * *

_*Wow.  That was… interesting.  Never thought Aoko would do something—or ALMOST do something—like *THAT,* not for a minute.  She always surprises me, always—and I'm a tough guy to surprise.  Must get it from her dad.  Sure glad HE wasn't here, or somebody'd be having a funeral—me, probably.  Why am I thinking about her dad?  Would much rather think about how she looked just then, just before Ayumi walked in…..  Whoooooooboy…..*_  Still sitting cross-legged on the carpet, Kaito kept his head a little bowed as a slow, silly grin crept across his face.  Something inbetween his brain and his stomach seemed to be doing flipflops; maybe it was his heart.  Or his hormones, possibly.  _*Now's not the time, though, so snap out of it, Kuroba.*_

_*But maybe later…..*_

_*Wow.*_

* * * * *

A little later…..

With a certain amount of moaning and groaning as well as any number of bitten-off swearwords, Kaito had been assisted into a clean change of clothes.  That is, he had been helped to his feet and a red-faced Aoko had turned her back on him after ushering Ayumi out of the room while he changed; modesty or not, if he started to fall over she planned on being there to grab his arm.  Kaito had thanked her with great dignity and then commented that if she were planning on sneaking a peek he'd appreciate a warning first so that he could present his *better side* for viewing.

At that point Ayumi offered to find Aoko a mop; the young woman declined and asked Kaito rather sarcastically why she'd want to peek at his backside anyway…..

One pair of jeans, some clean underwear and a loose t-shirt and jacket made the world a much nicer place, as far as Kaito was concerned.  Noodles were eaten, miso broth was slurped, and Ayumi had just handed over a round of mugs containing her favorite hot-milk-and-honey (plus a saucer for Spot, which he polished off quickly before settling down with a distinctly covetous eye towards Kaito's share).  Aoko had been rather quiet while Ayumi chattered on, talking about the movie she had seen earlier, about her friends, about the tricks that she would show Aoko-san later on.  The little girl seemed to sense the tension and shyness between her two adult guests, even if she wasn't certain about the source; once, looking up at Aoko, she had leaned over and whispered, "Hei-san was being a baka earlier, wasn't he?  I think he's nervous."

Aoko had stifled a laugh; she had to agree.  The young thief was stretching out his dinner of leftovers as long as possible, paying great attention to each bite; he glanced up, caught her eye and looked slightly chagrined:  busted.

You could only take so long to eat ramen, though, and at last Kaito sat back with a sigh; he ran his good hand through his hair, a preoccupied look in his usually cheerful eyes.  "Okay…. Jeeze, how in the world do I begin?  This is gonna be a little hard to explain—"  He shot a look at his audience; three pairs of eyes (two human and one feline) were fixed on him unwinkingly, and the thief hesitated for a moment.  "I don't suppose you'd prefer to see a magic trick instead, would you?" he asked hopefully; "Aoko?..... No, huh?  'Yumi-chan?  _Save_ me, please?...... no; guess not."  He sighed, moving the tray with its empty ramen bowl from his lap and sitting it on the floor.  "No sympathy for a wounded man, is there--?  Okay, okay!!"  Kaito mock-defended his face as Aoko's fists clenched.  

From behind his raised hand he peered at her, and for just one bare second there was no humor at all in the dark blue eyes as he added, "Just remember:  You asked for this….."

_*And I hope you can understand, Aoko; **God**, how I hope you can understand…..*_  Kaito felt his stomach knot with nerves; how many times, he asked himself, had he dreamed of telling the young woman opposite him what he was going to tell her tonight?  Granted, the setting in his fantasies had NOT usually included gunshot wounds or a little girl's bedroom, but still…

_*I've wanted her to know; not telling Aoko's been like—like cheating myself.  Like stealing from both of us.*  He_ swallowed hard.

_*Okay, Thief Boy; on with the show.  Think of it as a different kind of heist, then— instead of her trust, you're here to steal her MIStrust away and destroy it, just like the Pandora Gem.  Ayumi's not a problem, but Aoko…..  Hell of a hard trick to play; she's gonna have to do half the work herself.*_  Collecting his thoughts, he gulped once and then plunged into explaining how Kuroba Kaito had become Kaitou Kid.

"Y'see, it was like this…..  All those years ago, when my dad died?  I never knew that he'd been murdered.  I never liked the explanation I had been given, but when you're a kid you don't have much choice about that sort of thing—the grownups all said he had died in an accident, and that was that.  So—time passed, and I grew older, and then one day this guy in a white tux started showing up in the news—"

_It was the first time he had ever admired a criminal, for any reason.  The Phantom Thief that baffled and evaded the police did so with such aplomb and flair that you couldn't help but pay attention—and the fact that he was using what were obviously magic tricks only made the whole thing more interesting.  They weren't THAT elaborate, but they were being used with pretty good effect and showmanship… and Kaito, with his father's training and the reinforcement of an unknown heritage of kaitous, appreciated good showmanship right down to the marrow of his bones._

"Aoko?  Do you remember, I even made a sort of card-gun like his?  'Course, it just shot regular playing cards, not the ones I use now—"

"That reminds me…"  The young woman pulled her backpack over to her and rummaged in it for a moment, pulling out a small rubber-banded stack of somethings.  "I, um, found these when I was getting your clothes for you…"

Kaito accepted what looked like an ordinary deck of cards, if a little thicker than most; only the most careful inspection would reveal the thin layer of aluminum sandwiched inside each one.  His eyebrows rose as a thought occurred to him; he was normally _very careful about leaving any traces of his 'night job' around in case the worst should happen and his house end up being searched, but—  "Aoko?" he asked carefully; "Just WHERE did you find these?"_

She was blushing a little, though obviously trying to keep her face straight.  "In your underwear drawer," she muttered, then glared at him as he sputtered indignantly.  "Well, you _asked me to pick up some clothes for you, didn't you?"_

He fought back his own flush of embarrassment.  "Yeah, guess I did."  And then he grinned again, a very Kaito-ish grin with an added twist of mischief behind it.  "At least now you know whether I wear boxers or briefs—and you didn't even have to flip MY skirt to find out!!"

_"Kaito!"___

Once more the young thief ducked a mock (or not-so-mock) swing.  Ayumi looked extremely puzzled; "Boxers?  Briefs?  And Hei-san, you don't REALLY wear a SKIRT, do you?!?"  Kaito's apprentice petted Spot, who was rather smugly curled up in her lap.

Both Aoko and the young magician blenched.  "Never mind--  Anyway," Kaito said hastily, diving back into the relative safety of  Explaining, "I got interested in what was going on, partly because he was doing magic tricks and partly…"  He hesitated, glancing aside somewhat shiftily, "partly because I could _*see*_ how he did everything.  It was so easy; it was almost as though I had it built into me, being able to figure out heists and deceptions and subterfuge….."  A strange look composed of a mixture of bafflement and what could almost be pride flickered across his face.  "When I read the newspaper reports, it was like I was reading extra stuff that nobody else could see—or like somebody was whispering in my ear, telling me *exactly* how the tricks were done."  He shifted uneasily, wincing as his shoulder and side twinged.  "It _bothered_ me just a bit, when I thought about it….."

_And then he had gone home one day and stopped in the hall to look at his father's portrait.  And all it had taken was his hand in the right place and the smallest of pushes, and Kuroba Kaito had fallen forward—out of his old life and into his new one, whether he liked it or not.  Later on, the biggest problem of all had been that he HAD liked it, liked it in a way that seemed to spring from a level so deep and personal that sometimes Kaito seemed to be the false persona and the Kaitou the real one._

_It had been so very, very easy to fall….._

"When I saw all that stuff in the hidden room—and Aoko, you just wouldn't believe it; there's a freaking CAR in there!—I started to understand things from when I was a kid.  My dad…..  Y'know, every kid with a good dad thinks he can do anything, but mine *could* do anything—unlock any door, climb onto the roof without a ladder, make doves and rabbits and whatever pop out of nowhere, disappear without a trace, know what you were thinking before you said or did it…..  My dad was magic.  He really *could* do anything."  A trace of pain crept into Kaito's voice, which had grown very soft.  "And—he was a _thief._  I'm not an idiot; on the other side of that portrait is a big picture of Kaitou Kid, wearing the same outfit that I found hanging in a closet in that room, the same cloak I found there too….. and he had left me a recording; even though the stupid tape broke before I could hear everything on it, what I heard was enough to make me understand—a little, anyway."

"And you didn't tell me."  Her voice was low; he started slightly, glancing up and then away as though her quiet gaze hurt him.

"I couldn't—the next heist was that night—"  There was a strange abstraction in Kaito's eyes that stopped Aoko's retort on her lips; he looked almost haunted.  "When I realized that, it was so weird; I didn't even THINK about what I did—I just got dressed in dad's old suit and cape, in his top-hat and monocle.  I put on the whole outfit like I had been doing it all my life, like it had been waiting for me."  He gave a short laugh, one with an edge to it.  "I guess it had."

_He had watched his hands in the mirror, tying the tie; had watched himself slip on his father's shoes.  He had watched himself click the cape into place, holster the card-gun that was so much heavier and more businesslike than the little toy he had built for himself; he had watched himself slip on the ghostly white gloves.  And all the while, as he fixed the monocle into place and loaded his pockets down with this and that from the boxes of smoke-bombs and other paraphernalia, he had been running on automatic because the whole damned routine was so *familiar* that he hadn't had to think about what he was doing at all.  It hadn't been until he was settling the hang-glider rig into place on his shoulders that the unreality of what he was doing caught up with him—and by then it was far too late.  Dead men's shoes, once filled, do not come off._

_And it had been so very, very easy to fly._

"Jii nearly had conniptions when he saw me—he thought I was dad.  When he realized who I really was he nearly left—he didn't want to tell me the truth.  But by then I was pretty sure….."

At that point Kaito looked up, straight into Aoko's face—and she was startled by what she saw in his eyes:  Pain, raw and unadulterated.  Just pain, and a remote kind of loneliness that she had never seen there before, not even when his father had died.  "Aoko, I don't even know how to tell you how that felt—asking Jii to tell me the truth:  Was my dad Kaitou Kid?  And then hearing him say 'Yes'….."  The sound he made next had to be a laugh, because there wasn't really anything else it _could be.  "He was a good man; but he was a thief.  He loved me, and he stole for a living.  How do you handle that sort of realization?"_

The Inspector's daughter was silent; beside her, Ayumi watched them both, her brow furrowed.

"When he said that….. when he told me….."  Kaito's voice had grown thick; he stopped for a moment, swallowed, and continued on.

"When he told me the truth, it was like… have you ever seen a gyroscope?"  Ayumi opened her mouth, but Kaito cut her question off with a gesture.  "It's this little spinning thing, 'Yumi-chan; you can do tricks with it, balance several of 'em on top of each other like tops, juggle them, make 'em walk across a tightrope—the point is, though, that a gyroscope can flip over or turn and suddenly be spinning in a totally different way than before without falling down or stopping; it's balanced, but it adapts.  That's what it felt like:  like somebody turned me inside out and set me going again, like I was the same but _*different.*  Really different—different purpose, different identity… different _life._  After all—" and he made that sound again, the not-laugh; "—after all, how many people have a legend just waiting for them to step into and take over?"_

Ayumi spoke up then, her small voice a little unsure; she hugged the kitten in her lap as if for reassurance.  "Were you scared?"

Kaito sighed.  "I didn't have _time to be scared, 'Yumi; I made up my mind right then, up on that rooftop—and that was that.  No….. not scared; just determined.  And y'know, thinking about it, I can't even really say that I 'made up my mind'—it was more like—like there wasn't anything else I *COULD* choose.  Even though it hurt… what else could I do but stand with my dad?"_

And he gave Aoko a rather hollow smile.  "Just like you, I guess….."  She said nothing, but stared back at him with a measured, steady gaze.

"And after that… after that I started looking for targets—things I could steal."  He laughed, and the laughter this time was more genuine than before.  "I had the damnedest time at first, making myself even *think* about taking other people's property, but I knew I was gonna give it back—and besides, once I actually got into the heists it was like it was second nature; it's a funny thing, but you get really focused when you're going after a prize, you know?"  Kaito chuckled, the sound turning into a cough.  He cleared his throat and continued.

"The whole idea was to draw those bast—uh, sorry, 'Yumi-chan—those bad guys out that killed my dad.  Remember what I said this morning, about dad being hired to find the Pandora Gem?  I figured that as soon as they saw Kaitou Kid back in business they'd come running; well, it took a little longer than just a few heists….."

_He had loved it.  The night-time surveillance trips, the casing of this location or that, the disguises and props and gadgets—Kaito had taken to the whole unbelievable lifestyle like a duck to water, like an artist to his paints.  He had always loved performing and fooling the public eye but this– oh, THIS made everything he had done before look like water beside wine, and the wine went straight to his head and made him drunk with a curious kind of joy.  Pitting your wits against the world is a very addictive drug; pitting your wits and WINNING—_

_--well, nothing came close.  Nothing at all….. except, sometimes, the hastily-smothered thought of telling a certain friend of his about the whole confused, wonderful, horrible, unbelievable thing.  Except that he couldn't, because her DAD was doing his best to lock him in a jail-cell and throw away the key.  He just couldn't._

_And in the meantime the heists went on, becoming progressively more intricate, more engrossing, more addictive; he became more and more kaitou without becoming any less Kaito.  And his father's shoes fit him better with every step he took into the world of the Phantom Thief._

Kaito gave Aoko a lopsided sort of smile; he tucked his good hand into his pocket, toying unconsciously with something inside it.  "So now you know why I kept falling asleep in class; half of my nights were spent down in my dad's old room, and a lot of the time I had left was spent checking out new targets."

"Targets—you mean _*things to steal.*"  Her_ sharp voice did not give an inch; beside her, Ayumi looked distressed.  Even Spot glanced up briefly before settling back to wash a fluffy white paw.  "Didn't it ever bother you that you were taking other people's stuff?"

The young thief facing her scowled; he fished the whatever-it-was that he had been fiddling with out of his pocket, clasping it lightly in his palm—it glittered a bit before his fingers closed over it.  "Sure it did—but I gave 'em back, every time but once… and _that time it was a baseball, and it went where it should have gone in the first place:  to the rightful owner.  Give me a *break,* Aoko; you know my mom, you knew my dad—they taught me right from wrong, just like you were taught when you were a kid."  His chin came up defiantly.  "I _knew_ what I was doing was wrong, but it was what I had to do.  I wanted to find my dad's killers, and if the only way to do it was to be a criminal then full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes!"  He coughed again, draining his cup of milk; Ayumi reached across (unsettling Spot, who jumped down with a cat-curse) and took the empty cup.  Her small face was a little confused and she looked like she wanted to ask a question; Kaito quirked an eyebrow in her direction.  "What's up, 'Yumi-chan?"_

"If… what you do is bad," she asked slowly, staring at the carpet, "does that make you a _bad guy?"_

Silence hung in the room.

At last Kaito reached out and gently tipped Ayumi's chin up with one finger, meeting her gaze with his.  "I don't know," he answered quietly; Aoko looked on, listening.  "When you grow up you're supposed to be able to figure out all the answers, but I just _*don't know,*_ Ayumi.  The only thing I can tell you is this:  What I'm doing has a _*good reason* behind it.  If I can draw out my dad's killers and get them caught, it… well, it won't make the things I've done go away, but even if I go to jail someday it'll be worth it.  My dad should never have died, and those black-hearted bastards—sorry again—_monsters_ shouldn't get away with his murder."_

She seemed to cheer up a little at this.  "You can swear if it makes you feel better, you know," she told him earnestly; "My tousan swears when _he_ gets mad."

His mouth twitched despite the somberness in his eyes.  "Thanks, but I'll try not to."  He shrugged a one-shouldered shrug, grimacing impatiently against the pain of the movement.  "That's something else that comes with growing up, y'know:  you find out that sometimes you have to let bad things happen to you to make good things happen later.  It's sort of like getting a shot; you have to go through somebody sticking a needle in your arm so's you won't get sick later.  Me, I've made myself into the sort of person who really *should* be arrested so that somebody a lot worse than me can pay for what they did; maybe that *does* make me into one of the bad guys, but not as bad as _they_ are.  Besides," he said, and his eyes darkened even more, "my dad wasn't the only person they got; the more I learn about them, the more rotten they seem to be….."

Through all of this, Aoko sat silent and very still.  Once more Kaito's gaze flickered up to her face and then away, almost in pain.  He drew a deep, somewhat shaky breath; "'Yumi-chan?  You got any more of that milk stuff?"  The child nodded, piling all three empty cups on her teacher's lunch-tray and scrambling away out the door; her light footsteps diminished as they moved towards the kitchen.

The silence between the two still seated on the bedroom floor stretched as if time had become elastic, wrapping them around in an embrace.  Kaito picked at the bandages around his ribs, still looking away.  "Kaito?" said the girl softly, not moving; "Why won't you look at me?"

For a moment it seemed that he would not reply; when he did, his voice was so low that she had to strain to hear it.  "…..Because….._ I don't want to see your face when you choose your father," was the almost inaudible reply.  "I know you will, __you know you will, and it's the right thing to do—but it's the wrong thing for me.  I *HAVE* to keep on doing what I'm doing….. and _so do you."_   Kaito's fist tightened around the small, glittering thing in his hand as if he could shatter it between his fingers.  "I'm not martyr material, Aoko; I won't lie to you about that—I've been lying to you long enough.  If—when you tell your dad, I'll run; Jii'll help."  He drew a deep, almost ragged breath, and something else glittered on the back of his hand, something that had fallen there a second before.  "Hell of a situation, isn't it?  Hell of a world….."  The last few words were breathed more than spoken, but they hung in the air as if they had been shouted._

_Most of the time he had enjoyed what he was doing, so much that (quite appropriately) it should have been illegal.  It was fun-- intellectually, physically and emotionally; when he was on a job his muscles and skills were stretched and honed and his mind and heart rode a rollercoaster that ran the gamut from terror to delight.  It was fun outwitting Nakamori, too; he viewed the Inspector with a mischievous, affectionate respect and more than once had to stop himself from saying the wrong thing the next day when in his 'civilian' persona.  It wouldn't do for Nakamori to get nudged in the ribs and teased about that slip onto his butt that he had made the night before while chasing the Phantom Thief, especially if said Thief was the only one who knew about it….._

_But no matter how much fun the whole dangerous, exciting role of Kid was, Kaito never quite forgot just *why* he was doing what he did.  After all, every time he walked into his father's old workroom he passed through not only a reminder of Kaitou Kid the infamous Phantom Thief, but also of the man behind the legend, the man who had loved him and taught him how to laugh, how to see life through a magician's eyes._

When Ayumi came back into the room, she could have cut the heavy stillness there with a *spoon,* much less a knife; it was that thick.  Kaito had scooted back a little until he could rest against the wall beside the closet, his knees drawn up and his arm resting across them.  There was a strained, rather bleak air about him that sad oddly on his usually cheerful features; it made Ayumi stop in her tracks, look at him carefully, place the tray that she was carrying on her bedside table and duck back out into the bathroom.  Moments later she returned, holding out a bottle of painkillers with a troubled expression to her friend.  "Hei-san?"

He looked up, accepting them with a look of gratitude that probably owed as much to the break in his train of thought as to the prospect of relieving his aches.  "Thanks, 'Yumi-chan; you're a godsend, you know that?"

She handed around the mugs of warmed milk, placing another saucer on the floor for Spot.  "I wish… I wish I could make you feel better *inside* too, Hei-san; aspirin doesn't help there, does it?"  She sat down then, this time right beside him; unconsciously she mirrored his pose, drawing her knees up and resting her elbows there.  Her voice was small and fierce, the sadness still there but beginning to be overcome with anger at the things her friend and teacher had had to go through.

Ayumi may have only been eight years old, but she knew right from wrong—and good from evil, too; most children simply didn't have the background to understand such concepts, but she wasn't most children and had seen far, far more than the norm.  And she was beginning to recognize that sometimes _*good*_ was a much more difficult thing to make happen than _*right.*_

Not that she cared, or even worried about it; what Yoshida Ayumi understood at that moment was that she was on Hei-san's side, and that was enough.  Case closed, end of story; Ayumi was like that.

She took a big swallow of her milk; her eyes were stormy.  "If I could," she muttered, "I'd make those men that killed your tousan pay for it; I'd make them go to jail and—and break up rocks or something FOREVER.  Or whatever they make people in jail do.  I'd put them where they couldn't hurt anybody else ever, ever again… and I'd make them **_sorry__."  She sniffed a little, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand._**

"So would I.  That's what I'm trying to do, you know."  His voice was very gentle.  "My dad taught me when I was just a tad younger than you about keeping up a good Poker Face—you remember, 'Yumi-chan?  I mentioned it a couple of weeks ago when I was teaching you to—uhhhh….."  His voice trailed off as he glanced up somewhat guiltily at Aoko, but she said nothing; the young woman simply sat quietly, staring into the depths of her mug as if looking for oracles there.

"—when you taught me how to play Poker; I remember."  The child cocked her head a little sideways as she looked up at him.  "Why?"

He barely smiled.  "Well, that's part of it, sort of—when I'm Kid, I'm playing my cards; when I'm Kaito, I'm wearing my Poker Face.  And someday, if I just keep playing… I may win the game."

"And is that what I see every day?  Just your Poker Face?"  For the first time in a little while Aoko spoke, her voice so low that he could hardly hear it.  She still stared down into her cup, but the hurt in her words was unmistakable.  "Who gets to see your true face, Kaito?  Or did you just put that away and—and put on a mask of _lies instead when you decided to be a thief?"  Her voice thickened, full of anger and what sounded like grief.  "When I told my dad the next day that somebody had called me the night before and warned me, I told him that I didn't know who had called—was that the __*truth,* Kaito?  __Was it?!?"  The last few words were flung at him with all the pain of betrayal behind them._

Something rattled on the floor as Kaito dropped it abruptly.

Before she realized what was happening, Aoko found that she had been caught by one shoulder in a grip so tight that it would later leave finger-sized bruises.  Kaito had leaned forward in a pose startlingly reminiscent of his earlier position—but the look in his eyes, that was different though no less emotional.  "I swear to you, Aoko," he ground out between his teeth, "I *swear* to you that I've lied to you as little as possible—you of all people.  Hell, you've probably seen more of the truth lying right under your nose than anybody else, _including my mom!  Yeah, I haven't told you what was really happening when it had anything to do with Kid, but I've always been as—as much *ME* with you as possible."  His breath was coming short and fast as if he had been running; she held hers, staring back into his eyes._

Those eyes held so much; anger, pain, and not much humor at all now—not now, not like this.  And as he released her shoulder and sat back Nakamori Aoko watched numbly, her thoughts in turmoil.  "Really?" she whispered.  "And—has it all been _worth it, Kaito?  Look at you—" and she gestured at his wounded side and shoulder.  "You've been evading the police and running across rooftops and God knows what for more than a year now—what has it __gotten you?"_

_"**This**,"_ he said softly.  He scooped up the something that he had dropped a moment before and held it out on his palm like an offering, glancing at the glass doors of the balcony.  "'Yumi-chan?  Could you turn off the light, please?"  The little girl (who had huddled wide-eyed and mute for the last moment or two beside him) scrambled to her feet, understanding dawning as she flicked off the switch.

Aoko blinked at the sudden gloom.  "What--?"  And then:  "Oh.  _Ohhhh—"_

It still wasn't very late as yet, but Autumn moonrise in Tokyo comes fairly early in the evening.  And they were high enough that the soft, silver rays were scarcely blocked by any buildings at all…..

Radiance spilled from Kaito's cupped palm as he lifted it high enough to intersect the moon's rays, radiance from the stone-and-metal firefly he held; it reflected from the eyes of three human beings and one feline one, from the monocle that lay on the floor, from the faint wet trails on three of the faces.  If a peacock's feathers could have been set ablaze without their being consumed they would have shone so; if all the sorrows and hopes in the world could have been gathered up and polished and set in silver, they would have glowed so.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you The Pandora Gem," said Kuroba Kaito quietly; his eyes were fixed on the thing he held as if making sure that it couldn't get away.  Hesitantly Aoko put out a hand; he nodded.  "Go ahead, it won't hurt you.  It's not hot; it just looks like it should be."

Slowly she took the glittering ember from him, her fingertips almost flinching back from the electric pulse of light; green, red and a curious golden tinge dyed her face in kaleidoscope patterns as she turned it this way and that wonderingly.  "This… is what they killed your father for?  _This?"_

"Yes."

"Who?"  She turned it over, absentmindedly rubbing at a small brown smear on one thumb.  "Who, Kaito?"

He swallowed, watching her hands.  "I don't _know yet—not exactly; I won't know 'til I catch them.  But they've been after me for a while now, and I plan on making damned sure they understand that I've finally found what we've both been looking for."  He hesitated, setting his jaw grimly.  "When I can, that is….."_

Ayumi reached for the stone.  "Can I see it?  Please?"  She had been itching to hold it again ever since the first moment that the light had bloomed between Kaito's fingers the night before.  "Pleeeeease?"  A little warily Aoko handed it over, and the child held it up between her eyes and the distant moon.  "It's so pretty…. and it's _warm.  And…" she blinked, one eyebrow going up in an expression she had clearly borrowed from her teacher, "…it smells like _roses??"__

Kaito shook his head.  "Yeah, I smelled that earlier, but I think that's coming from your bushes out on the balcony; whoever heard of a stone that smells good?  As for it being warm, I *have* been holding it for a while—"

A white, fluffy paw well-equipped with extraordinarily long claws suddenly reached up from Ayumi's lap and batted at the Gem; the child yelped, raising it higher.  "Spot-chan!  This isn't a kitty-toy!"  The feline ignored her protests and swatted at it again, resulting in a shallow scratch across the child's wrist.  "OW!  Spot-chan, _behave!"_  The Kitten From Hell made an impatient sort of noise and ducked under her arm, bolting for the space beneath the bed as Ayumi nearly dropped the pendant.

Carefully Kaito took it back; he stared down at it with a strange little smile, then placed it squarely on the floor between them a few inches from his cup.  "So I finally got what I've been looking for; time to keep my promise, the one I made to myself when I first found out what this whole mess was really about."  He tugged the card-gun from his pocket, checking the safety and then turning it around and gripping it by the broad barrel.  "Aoko?  Ayumi?  I want you both to watch—I want somebody to _*see this happen* with me….."_

And with that, he raised the gun high in his good hand; his eyes glittered fiercely—

_-- and he brought it down butt-first, directly onto the Pandora Gem as hard as he possibly could._

**_* W H A A A M !!! *_******

Bits of gemstone flew across the room, showering everything and everyone—

**_*tinkle-tinkle-clatterclatter-ploop!!*_**

-- and there was silence.

***************************************************************************************************

_Far away, across the city in a darkened room, a man raised his head in sudden shock; light glinted off his copper-colored eyes.  _

_Halfway across the __East__Sea__ a woman on a luxury liner blinked, caught her breath and gripped the railing so tightly that her knuckles went white.  _

_Grouped here and there across __Japan__ and throughout the world, a number of people with hard, secretive faces looked up as a cold wind blew softly through what passed for their souls.  _

_And not too many kilometers away, a black-trenchcoated man standing quietly in the shadows of an alley with a good view of the Kuroba house suddenly shuddered hard as if someone had walked across his grave….._

***************************************************************************************************

Spot popped his flat white head from beneath Ayumi's bed, surveying the scatter of interesting glassy bits that now covered the room with feline approval; good—somebody wanted to play!  He reached out a paw and dabbed it at a large piece; it seemed to be a sort of shell, not very thick and as green as his mother's eyes.  A prodding claw made it slide enticingly, so he prodded it again, glancing slyly at the humans in the room to see who would play back.

They weren't doing much, were they?  Not even HIS Person, who simply sat as still as if someone had grabbed her by the scruff of the neck.   She was staring at the other male in the room, the one who had so amply provided a backrest earlier; maybe *he* felt like playing?

But no, if anything the male looked even limper than the other two.  He had been excitingly lively before, all full of energy and emotion despite the wounds that Spot could smell; in fact, the kitten had actually found him quite interesting (if perhaps a bit noisy).  And he had turned his courting up a notch, too, which he didn't entirely approve of but which was probably inevitable.  After all, Spot had chosen an EXCELLENT female as his Person, hadn't he?  The feline twitched his whiskers as he peered up at the girl again; for a human she really wasn't bad.

His whiskers twitched a second time, accompanied by his pink nose as he sniffed at his green plaything; how very peculiar.  It smelled like something sweet, something rather enticing…..  come to think of it, so did something _else in the room.  Abandoning the idea (temporarily at least) of play, the Kitten From Hell fixed sharp blue eyes on a small cup most of the way across the room and waited for his chance to come._

***************************************************************************************************

_*There.  There.  I did it…..  I actually DID it…..  Dad, wherever you are, did you see?  Did you??  **I DID IT!!!*** _ Kaito rubbed at his eyes with his good hand; they seemed to be stinging.  _*I destroyed it at last, just like I said I would.*_

Then he looked up, directly at Aoko; the girl was white-faced, staring at the spot in the carpet where the Pandora Gem had been moments before.  Now all that was left was a somewhat-damaged antique silver setting, a room-wide scattering of bits of gemstone, and a dent in the butt of his card-gun.

_*I really did it.  Finally, finally, finally…..*_  His eyes weren't stinging anymore, mostly because of the two silent tears that had slipped out and run down his cheeks.  Well, fine; he didn't give a damn if he was seen by Hakuba, Nakamori and the entire staff of Tokyo's Finest—it didn't matter in the least, because it was freaking _DONE._

Kuroba Kaito picked up his cup of milk and drank deeply—it tasted wonderful, and he blinked a little dazedly at Aoko as he gestured with the cup at her.  "Wanna toast the end of an era, Aoko?  You just saw me keep my promise—and now NOBODY'S gonna spill any more blood over the Pandora Gem, ever again."  He actually laughed, maybe a little hysterically; "You always said I was as stubborn as a pig, didn't you?  Well, let's hear it for pigs!  Especially ones that fly….."

The corner of her mouth twitched despite her apparent shock.  "You're babbling, Kaito.  Anyway, I can't toast you—I already drank all mine." 

"So?  Here!"  He passed her the cup; there was still about a quarter of it left.  The young woman gravely accepted it, raised the cup and nodded in his direction before she drank.  "'Yumi-chan?  You too!"  Kaito's eyes were suspiciously overbright as he took the near-empty cup and passed it to the child.

_*I did it, dad.  I kept my promise.  It's done; not over, not yet, not by a LONG shot—but the Gem's gone forever.*_

* * * * *

Ayumi was still a little dismayed by what she had just seen done; true, she had realized what Hei-san was up to when he placed the Gem on the floor, but still….. it had been so _pretty._  But she accepted the cup, lifted it high (just like she had seen in those American James Bond movies) and said importantly "To Hei-san!" before drinking.

It tasted really good, too; she'd have to make some more before she went to bed.   "So now what?" she inquired, setting the cup down; it rattled slightly as it was placed on the carpet beside her.

"Uhh?"

"NOW what?" she repeated, feeling a bit tired.  It really *had* been an awfully long, long day…..  From the corner of her eye the child saw Spot creeping out from under her bed; the feline made his way across the room via a wandering trail behind her bedside table and across the doorway, finally taking his place beside her.  He sniffed at the empty cup, his whiskers fanned forward in interest.

Hei-san seemed to be having a hard time with the idea of "Now What" for some reason; he looked like somebody had just hit him in the back of the head with a board.  And Aoko-san looked almost as silly; the young woman was yawning, her pretty face looking almost stupefied with drowsiness.  Grownups, decided Ayumi, should take naps; they'd probably feel a lot better if they did.  It was catching, too; seeing Aoko-san yawn made _her_ yawn as well.

"I—" **yawn**  "I'll think about that tomorrow….." said Hei-san, still smiling (though it was a very funny-looking smile.  And she had seen his tears only a couple of minutes before.)  "Tired—really, really tired all of a sudden.  S'funny; had lots of energy a little while ago.  Aoko?  Gotta ask you something, though—"

The young woman blinked at him with somewhat sleepy eyes.  "Mmmm?  What?"

"You--- **ARE gonna tell your dad….. ****_*aren't*_ you?"**

THAT seemed to wake her up; she sat up straight, looking intently at Hei-san and taking a deep breath before replying.  Hei-san seemed to be *holding* HIS breath as he listened; and his Poker Face had slammed down into place like a mask despite his sudden yawns.

"Yes.  I ***_am*_** going to tell my dad, Kaito….."

Hei-san seemed to slump a little into himself, almost losing his Poker Face; "I knew you would; I _knew_ it.  You *have* to, you're his daughter—" he half-whispered, closing his eyes.

"….. when you're finished."

**_"……………………………………….w-what?!?"_******

Her eyebrows went up.  "You heard me; yes, I'll tell him—but not until you've done what you need to do."  She yawned again, reaching down to pick up one of the glittering bits of gemstone lying about.  In the dim, unlit room it sparkled but did not glow, reflecting back the moon's rays like a piece of ordinary glass.  "Sooner or later you're going to have to explain all this to *him*" she said conversationally, only the faintest quiver of nerves in her voice; "—and  that's going to be pretty awful; I don't know what he'll do or say.  But until then, until you finish what you've started….." and she looked up at Hei-san with the most peculiar expression in her eyes, "until then—_I won't tell._  But… don't try to push me out of this; my father's involved as well now, so you're going to let me _*help.*"_

After all," Aoko added softly, "I knew your dad too.  And—and he was a _*good man.*"_

A pause then, filled with a truly amazing amount of silence.

What occurred next was something that took Ayumi a few years and a few traumas of her own to understand, but she highly approved of it when it happened anyway.

* * * * *

_*She's not going to…. Instead, she's going to…… Aoko's gonna……*_  He couldn't seem to take it in.  As Aoko finished what she had been saying, Kaito shook his head dazedly (and why the hell was he so goddamned *woozy* all of a sudden?) and tried to understand that somehow, in some way, the Inspector's daughter was managing to choose both her father _AND him._

It didn't seem possible; but Aoko was pretty damned impossible herself, wasn't she?  **_*! ! !*_**  

**_"Really?"_** he heard his own voice ask, very small and sort of wondering.

"Yes, really, you baka," she answered back, a strange little sparkle in her eyes.  She seemed to be considering doing something…..

Kaito was dizzy—either from relief or the odd wave of sleepiness that was suddenly sweeping through him, he didn't know— maybe he was just hyperventilating.  "Aoko," he whispered, "I could kiss you for this….."

And he could almost _*swear*_ he heard her smile.

"Really?" she asked in a voice that was absolutely full of something very, very— and then his eyes shot WIDE open as two hands caught him none-too-gently on his good shoulder and behind his head and pulled him forward into what was undoubtedly a **_kiss_**_._

"Mmph?  _MMPH!!................."_

After the first split-second of shock, Kaito did his best to cooperate.  And somewhere in the foggy unimportance that everything else in the world had suddenly become he heard a little girl's voice say "Now, THAT'S how they do it on TV!" in tones of distinct satisfaction…..

….. But Aoko's hands were holding him tightly and Aoko's lips were on his and she was awfully warm against his body and very soft; the world had just become an extremely physical place and that was just _*fine* with him….._

_*Jeeze, Aoko….. can't believe this is AOKO….. glad it's Aoko…..*_

It occurred to Kaito briefly as the kiss went on to the point where they had to pull back just a bit to catch their breaths that maybe this had been just a touch clumsy (it wasn't like either of them had had any chances to practice, what with one thing and another); so maybe they had better try again a few times until they got it right, right?

Right.  And Aoko didn't seem to have a problem with that idea either _(*When did she get so--? Not that I'm complaining (!!!) but I always thought she was SHY about this sort of thing…  Not shy…..  Man, I wish I had two good hands right now…..*).  From somewhere Kaito heard a giggle—_

--and then he was sitting bolt-upright, pressed against the wall with his fingers still tangled in Aoko's hair and feeling heat run through his body in the same way a person usually felt chills, only this felt really _*GOOD.*  She was nearly knee-to-knee with him, so close he could hear her rapid breathing; and the curve of her smile made him swallow hard and take a few deep breaths of his own._

"…..Aoko?  That was really very cool….." he heard his voice saying over the thundering of his pulse, from somewhere rather far off.  Once more he heard Ayumi's giggle and he wondered if they had just corrupted a minor.  Somehow he didn't think so.

_*Ooookay; calm down, Thief Boy—it was just a kiss, right?  Just a kiss, that's all, and you're in front of an 8-year old so that's all it's gonna BE, too, so just… settle.*_  Good advice, if only his heart and hormones would listen, which just wasn't happening.  _*Ooooh… if kissing Aoko's like this, then…..?  STOP speculating.  That'll only lead to trouble you don't need and can't handle just now.*_

_*But still…..*  Kaito_ felt what was undeniably a goofy smile spreading across his face.  _*Whoever said that "A kiss is just a kiss" was never kissed by Aoko.  Yeehah.*_

The young woman who now sat herself down crosslegged beside him was still Nakamori Aoko, still the same old mop-wielding Amazon whom he had known and skirt-flipped most of his life—everything that she had ever been was still there.  It was just that, staring straight at her right now in mingled shock and utter gratitude, Kaito wondered just *where* his brains had been not to notice all the REST of Aoko—that is, besides the obvious (and she had an awfully nice obvious, didn't she?)  For one thing, she was a damned good kisser for somebody so inexperienced.

_*Must be natural aptitude,*_ he mused giddily, wondering if his ears were as red as they felt.  He wouldn't be surprised at this point if you could rub them together and start a fire…

_*And I guess I didn't do too badly either, did I?  I sure as hell did my best!*_  Inside his head he high-fived himself in purely masculine glee.  _*Way to go, Kaito!!*_

A face-cracking yawn suddenly caught him by surprise; why was he so damned _sleepy, anyway?  Aoko was too, and even Ayumi; the little girl looked ready to drop off—_

--and speaking of dropping off….. Kaito turned his head as he felt something heavy come to rest against his shoulder; Aoko had slumped over sideways, her eyes drifting closed.  "Just a little nap," she murmured; "We need to get t'your house, but just a little nap first….."

"Mmmm," he agreed, allowing his own eyes to droop shut.  It wasn't like he could help it; they felt like somebody had weighted them with sandbags.  "Just a little nap— and then we gotta go, 'kay, Aoko?"

"Mmph….."

Somewhere in the back of the thief's mind a tiny voice was wondering about the sudden onset of drowsiness; it was almost like being drugged… but… he was too sleepy to care; and besides, they had a little while before they had to leave, didn't they?  _*And Aoko's not gonna turn me in right away, and she's… and she kissed me….. Take THAT, Hakuba, you English twit….. (yawwwwwwn)….. S'okay to take just a little tiny nap, 'Yumi-chan'll watch over us.  Aoko… she feels so warm…..feels good; yeah, comfortable like this…..*_

Yaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwn—

The last thing Kaito was aware of before sleep drew him and Aoko both down into its embrace was a dim view of Spot, finishing off the dregs of milk in his cup.  And then everything was blotted out by insistent blackness, enveloping and unresistable.

_***zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz***_

They slept.

* * * * *

Yoshida Ayumi fought back a yawn so wide and overpowering that it made her face ache; the gradeschooler climbed slowly to her feet.  She felt funny—a bit like she did when she took cold medicine or like that time the dentist gave her sleeping-gas, all fuzzy-headed and ready to curl up into a little ball of sleep.  And Hei-san was sleeping, and so was Aoko-san, and even Spot had just climbed into his owner's lap and settled himself in for a snooze…..

But Rita-kun would be home in about an hour, so she heaved herself from the depths of drowsiness and reached over to shake her teacher by his good arm.  "Hei-san?  Hei-san, wake up!"  No response; she shook him harder.  "Hei-san?  Um, Kaito?  PLEASE wake up!  Hei-san?!?"

STILL no response; he simply slid a little further over, leaning heavily against the young woman beside him.  Exasperated, Ayumi tried the same treatment with Aoko-san; still nothing!  "You've GOTTA wake up," she muttered, peering worriedly at them both; maybe if she got some water and—

A trip to the bathroom for her toothbrush-glass had Ayumi carefully splashing cold water into both adults' faces, but all they did was mutter irritably and sort of push her away without actually waking up.  The child bit her lip as she knelt before them, wondering what to do; it didn't help that *she* was awfully sleepy too and getting more so all the time—what in the world was she going to do?  She couldn't keep Rita-kun out of her room _forever….._

_*Think!  ThinkThinkThink…..  Think like Conan-kun or like Rin-kun, and think like Hei-san too!  Detectives find things and magicians hide them; Conan-kun says that the best way to find something is to look for stuff that stands out of the ordinary, but Hei-san says that the best hiding place is right in plain sight.*_

_*So I've got to find a way to hide them without moving them—they're too big and they won't wake up.  What ordinary-looking thing can I do or make that'll hide them?  I wish I could just drape a blanket over them, but--*_

_*THAT'S IT!*  The_ little girl bounced to her feet, charging down the hall towards the laundry-room and stifling another yawn as she went.

* * * * *

"Ayumi-chan?  _(atchoo!!)_  I'm _(sniffle) home….."  The Yoshida's apartment door closed behind the young American girl as she slid her backpack off; it was just past nine-thirty, and her cold had descended upon Rita-kun with all fours._

_**cough, cough, hack! sniffle**_  "Ayumi?"  With a silent groan the congested student headed down the hallway, looking for her charge.  "Ayumi-chan?  Ohh—"

The child lay curled up like a small, dark-haired puppy on the carpet beside a contraption that stretched most of the length of her room, composed of several chairs, sheets, two blankets and the fold-up clothes-drying rack that normally lived in the laundry room.  Rita-kun smiled despite her stuffy head; she had seen this before a few times—it was an _Ayumi-Fort.  The child tended to build them when she was bored, and all adults were Strictly Forbidden To Trespass for fear of Ayumi-chan's wrath.  She usually holed up inside them with her favorite books or toys, spending hours amusing herself; Rita-kun had been informed by the Yoshidas that Ayumi-Forts were allowed within reason (which meant that she couldn't fill up her *entire* room nor extend the construction out into the hall)._

_*Awwwww…..*  The_ young woman gently woke the child up, or attempted to; only sleepy mumbles and near-complete limpness were the result.  _*The kid must have really worn herself out today—oh well, good; the way I feel right now the LAST thing I want to do is to have to keep her busy.  Bedtime for Ayumi-chan, and then bed-time for Rita too.  Well, couch-time, anyway…*_

The little girl was like a rag-doll; it was easy enough to get her out of her everyday stuff and into a loose nightgown without really waking her up.  "C'mon, Ayumi-chan—upsy-daisy and into bed we go—"  

The gradeschooler let loose an ear-to-ear yawn that must have nearly dislocated her jaw as she burrowed down among her sheets and blankets.  "Oyasumi… Rita-kun…."

The American chuckled, suppressing a sneeze by turning it into a series of sniffles.  "Oyasumi, 'Yumi-chan.  Sweet dreams, kid."  She turned off all the room's lights, leaving it lit only by the rays of the moon and the city-glow filtering in through the balcony.

But as she began to close the bedroom door, she paused as her young charge muttered another sleepy goodnight; apparently Ayumi was dreaming that somebody else was in the room.  _*"Hei-san and Aoko san?"  Wonder who they are?  Must be some of those little friends of hers….."  _

Oh well, never mind.  Rita-kun sniffled her way down the hall, off to her date with a large dose of cold-medicine, a box of tissues, and some very deep sleep in the embraces of the Yoshida's comfortable couch.

***************************************************************************************************

_Kuroba__ Kaito was dreaming—that is, he *thought* he was Kuroba Kaito.  Or maybe he was Kaitou Kid; sometimes it was hard to tell….._

_He seemed to be standing somewhere dark; the banks of a narrow little stream, he thought, but it was sort of funny , wasn't it?  The water (was it water?) looked milky-white in the silver glow of the moon that hung overhead, full and ripe as a Summer peach.  Opaque waves washed cream-colored froth against the shore, and the air was filled with the heady scent of wild roses._

_Weird dream.___

_acknowledging__ He looked across the water at the green-eyed woman who sat negligently on a stone, her feet dangling just above the pearly current; she smiled at him, tucking one strand of her dark hair back.  An earring shaped like a crescent moon flashed brilliantly at him as she nodded, one professional acknowledging another (professional what? He wasn't at all sure).  She held an empty cup in her hand—high-grade silver, the thief part of him judged critically—and she offered it to him with a quirk of one elegant eyebrow.  "Would you like a drink?"_

_"That'd be nice, but it's empty, isn't it?"  He tried to sound casual, but it was hard with Aoko scowling jealously at her from beside him.  'Yumi-chan was there too, looking around wonderingly with Spot clutched in her arms.  What the hell were THEY doing in his dream?_

_Yeah; weird.___

_The green-eyed woman laughed merrily, as if he had said something terribly amusing; she reminded him slightly of Akako, which was not a reassuring thought.  "Oh no; this is one cup that's *never* empty—" and sure enough, there was milky-white liquid sloshing around in it, full right up to the brim.  A drink actually sounded sort of good; his mouth was dry, so he nodded politely and reached out._

_But she held it back teasingly.  "Are you *sure* you want to drink?" she asked a little mockingly; at his slightly affronted look (and the annoyed snort beside him) she laughed again.  She had a very musical laugh, chiming like the little wavelets at his feet.  "Oh well, never mind—besides, it's much too late anyway….."_

_And she was right; he could taste it on his lips, sweet as wild roses with all the thorns removed… but bitter, too, like blood and tears and loss—_

***************************************************************************************************

--and now he was awake, just like that; like stepping out of a hot shower into cold, cold air.  Kaito shivered once, violently, and bit back a curse at the abrupt pain the movement woke in his shoulder.  _*Damn, that HURT!!!  And it itches, too—*_  He twisted a little, trying to settle it into a more comfortable position… and suddenly froze, realizing that he seemed to be sitting in a rather peculiar sort of tent, unless he was still dreaming…..

Carefully he used his good arm to reposition Aoko's sleeping body, easing her onto the floor as he crawled rather awkwardly past what looked for all the world like chairlegs, the kind you have on kitchen-chairs.  _*Huh; feeling an awful lot better, even if my stupid shoulder hurts like hell; lots more energy now.  Lots more…*_  In fact, as he pushed through a fold of draped material, it occurred to him that he was actually feeling sort of—well, he wasn't sure HOW to term it:  peculiar? off-balance? weirdly healthy?  That'd fit—he felt oddly light-headed without being dizzy; almost preternaturally _clear-headed, in fact.  And while he still hurt like the bloody blue blazes where he had been wounded, it didn't compare in the __*least* to how it had just a few hours before.  He'd felt like the bottom of somebody's dumpster then in comparison.  Why?_

_*Never mind, baka; count your blessings and quit worrying about it.  What, you want to be feeling WORSE?*_  With a mental snort at his own foolishness he stuck his head out and took a look around.

_*Clever, clever Ayumi; girl, you have got a BRAIN kicking around in your little skull, don't you?*_  He crawled out far enough to get a good look at the sheet-tent she had obviously built, admiring his apprentice's resourcefulness.  Ayumi herself was currently a lump beneath her bedcovers, breathing deeply and evenly; as the thief pulled himself up to his feet on her desk-chair, he wondered what time it was—and felt his eyes bulge as her bedside clock flashed their numbers his way.

_*Oh MAN—__ten thirty-seven__!!  Rita-kun's here and we should've been gone a LONG time ago--  Shit, shit, shit; okay, Kuroba, what's the plan?  Hm; if Rita-kun's out there doing her homework or something, I just may have to try out my little anesthetic darts—and if she's asleep, I might want to anyway, just for insurance's sake.*  Cautiously he made his way to the door, leaning heavily against the wall as he went; a few seconds of listening told him that the coast was apparently clear, unless Rita-kun had learned to do her homework while snoring._

_*Good.  Okay, now, let's make this quick and quiet--*_

Slipping his new 'toy' from his pocket where he had stashed it after his clothing change, he eased the door open and edged into the hallway, his footfalls utterly silent on the carpet.  Five steps, six, seven…..  From the entrance to the Yoshida's living room he could see the American girl's tousled hair on her pillow, one arm resting on top of her head.  _*Perfect; couldn't have lined it up better if I had tried….. now, let's see: I press here, and the little cross-hairs pop up…*  A tiny set of intersecting white wires rose soundlessly into place; _*Annnnd aim…. aaaand press again--*__

_***thwip!***_

The tiny, tiny dart struck home in the girl's wrist, dissolving almost instantly; Rita-kun made the faintest of twitches as the anesthetic slipped into her bloodstream.  Then her breathing leveled out, as deep and smooth and even as Ayumi-chan's had been.

_*Great!  G'nite, Rita-kun; sweet dreams…*_  Kaito carefully popped the crosshairs back in and pocketed what he had just decided to call his 'Peacemaker.'  _*Okay—better get Aoko up.  I shouldn't wake 'Yumi-chan, though; could leave her a note, I guess…..*  Moving with care but a little less worry (now that the babysitter was out of the way) the young thief made his shaky way back into the child's bedroom._

"Rise and shine, Aoko--  C'mon, up!  Wakey, wakey—"  Aoko had always been one of the hardest people to rouse he had ever seen; this time was no exception.  The young woman blinked at him blearily, snarled something that was (fortunately for his delicate virgin ears) unintelligible, and curled tightly back in on herself.  It took several more shakes and a few low-voiced threats of tickling before she seemed to come to her senses enough to raise her head, peer around bemusedly at her 'tent'—and then curl back up, muttering something about 'camping.'

_*'Camping'?*  Oh_, wonderful; and the anesthetic dart wasn't going to last forever.  Time for drastic measures.  _*Hmmmmm….. wonder if she'd kill me if I--*  A slow grin grew on Kaito's face as he leaned in close, her breath tickling his face….._

_*What the hell; it'll be worth it.*_

As kisses went, it wasn't bad; being that Aoko wasn't awake enough to participate, it was a little one-sided—but he didn't mind.  And it was really terribly interesting how he could tell the very _second that Aoko woke up by the way she was suddenly kissing him back, even if she almost immediately pulled away in astonishment—_

"Hello, Sleeping Beauty," he murmured into her half-dazed eyes; they caught fire, partly from embarrassment and partly from—well, from _*Aoko* (that was just how she reacted), and Kaito chuckled softly as he ducked an instinctive swing at his head.  _*Good thing there's not a mop around.*__

She tasted like roses, for some reason.

Five minutes later had her on her feet and ready to go, if a tad on the groggy side.  A note explaining their absence had been folded up and tucked in Ayumi's hand, the sleeping Spot had been carefully placed in Aoko's backpack (he had curled up in Kaito's discarded white pants and cape without a mew of complaint, much to their mutual relief).  Aoko seemed to have caught her share of her companion's urgency once her heavy sleepiness had finally slipped off; draping Kaito's arm across her shoulder, she had managed a creditably silent sneak across the apartment (though Rita-kun's sleeping presence had had her wide-eyed and apprehensive).

As the outer door clicked quietly closed behind them both, Kaito heaved a huge sigh of relief; *_God, I'm OUT of there and I'm alive and unarrested and Aoko hasn't thrown me to the dogs or something; can't believe it.  One more day in that closet and I'd've been stark raving bonkers.*_   Of course, according to certain parties (particularly ones with British ancestry and a tendency towards blondeness) he was already well on the way to bonkers, but their opinion didn't count.

_*I feel great; I feel GREAT!  Well, except for the bullet-holes, that is—and even they just don't hurt like I thought they would this morning.  I'm out, I'm free, and I'm going home!  And Aoko's right here and I've kissed her and I'm not a pathetic heap of bruises and contusions on the ground—come to think of it, SHE kissed ME first!  And the Pandora Gem's smashed to smithereens and as soon as I'm healed up I am gonna grind those black-suited bastards' NOSES in it!*_

The world, just then, was a wonderful place.

He leaned heavily on Aoko as they made their way to the elevator, thankful for the late hour; 'nobody around' equaled 'no witnesses', and that was a good thing.  A quick call on Aoko's cellphone had a taxi on the way; he grimaced at the thought of the cost—and then realized that he had literally left his wallet in his other pants; a Phantom Thief does NOT usually have a reason to carry cash around…..  "Uhhh, I hate to tell you this, but— I don't have a yen on me.  Aoko? would you mind--?"  
She snorted, fishing around in one of the side pockets of her backpack for her wallet.  "It's okay; Tousan gave me some extra in case I needed it.  Besides," and she gave him a slightly ironic smile, "this makes me feel a little better about—well, about your sense of honesty.  It's kind of nice to know that you don't steal anything other than your targets…"

"Hey!" he protested as the elevator doors closed.  "I do _*NOT*_ steal people's cash!  And while I admit I've taken a _couple_ of things that weren't gems—you know, like that baseball and that crappy painting—I gave 'em all back, except for the baseball.  And that had extenuating circumstances."  Kaito sighed as he propped himself in the corner, watching the numbers change above the elevator door.  "I'm not quite without resources, though; one thing dad did before he died was set up a few investments under false names that more or less took care of themselves.  Jii's been handling the checks and sending the money to Mom all these years, but a fair chunk of it's been feeding an account that he knew I'd need someday."

She watched him, her eyes growing a little melancholy at the mention of his father.  "It sounds like he knew he was going to—"

"He did," Kaito said shortly; the elevator dinged as the doors slid open to reveal the deserted lobby.  He accepted her support without shame, wobbling a little as the last of his burst of waking adrenaline began to fade.  "C'mon, let's wait outside.  I need some _air."_

The hour was approaching eleven by now; only the occasional car passed by in this part of town and the two apparently had the area to themselves.  As they settled against a low retaining wall backed by an ornamental flowerbed, Kaito heard a rustling sound behind him and glanced back; birds?  Probably.  Heh—he was getting paranoid, jumping at shadows and expecting black-suited killers at every turn.  If he wasn't careful, his nerves would be the death of him…

"Kaito?"  Aoko was watching him again, her gaze just this side of worried.  "How do you feel?  We're going to need to change your bandages, you know—" (he winced) "—whether you like it or not.  You LOOK a lot better than I'd expect you to, really."

He assumed an innocent air.  "Clean living—we Phantom Thieves swear by it."  The young man shifted, glancing over his shoulder again as the bushes behind him rustled almost violently.  "Noisy birds tonight; must have a nest in there…"

Aoko swiveled around to peer into the bushes briefly; "Mmhm.  Um, Kaito?  Can I ask you something?"  Her eyes were very intent when they fixed back on his.  "If… what if I had decided to call my dad when you told me the truth?  About being Kid, I mean?"  She drew a deep breath, leaning back; an excited chirp (quickly shushed) came from the foliage behind her.  "What WOULD you have done?"

Her companion was silent,  one hand carefully scratching at the itchy bandages beneath his shirt.  "I don't know.  Called Jii, I guess—not that he could've done much, since he's out of town.  And then I guess I'd either try to get away or wait for the cops to pick me up; don't know how far I'd get on my own since I'm not in the greatest of shape at the moment, what with the bullets and all."  It was his turn to take a deep breath now, hitching himself up so that he could sit on the low wall comfortably.  Kaito leaned forward, resting his chin in his good hand.  "But you *didn't* call him, so it's a moot point, ne?"

"I could have, though…..  If I had, would you have been sorry about calling *me?*"

"No, you baka," and he actually laughed a little.  "THAT'S one thing I'm clear on--  If I hadn't called you, your dad would've gone into Police HQ this morning and gotten himself shot or blown up or—I dunno; killed somehow.  Those bastards in black are gunning for him, Aoko, just like they're gunning for me; he's GOT to watch his back!  And if I hadn't called, he'd have died….. and I couldn't let that happen, not to you or to anyone."  Kaito looked out across the street-lit concrete and asphalt, watching as a scrap of paper blew past them like a crumpled, diminutive ghost.  "They've killed enough fathers.  I would've done almost anything to keep 'Yumi-chan out of this whole mess, but… not that.  _Not that._  And I like your dad, I really do; I always have."

"I know.  Why?  He's always trying to catch you—"

"—AND failing spectacularly—"

She scowled, punching him lightly in his good shoulder; Kaito grunted, grimacing slightly.  "Yeah, but he keeps trying, and one of these days he's going to DO it… and then….."

The thief beside her closed his eyes, an odd little smile quirking his lips.  "Yeah—'and then?'  You see why it's so weird?  If he DOES ever catch me—which isn't likely—he'll have the living shit shocked out of him when he sees who I am.  I mean, he's known me as long as you have….. and what will YOU do if he catches me, hm?"  He turned his head towards her but did not reopen his eyes.  "I know you said you're gonna hold off on telling him, but—"

"—then you had just better _*not get caught,*_ okay?" she interrupted him rather fiercely, her eyes snapping.  "That way everybody wins.  Anyway, right now you've got to heal up."  She reached out, gently laying a hand across his forehead.  "No fever… that's good, but when we get to your place I want to take a look at your wounds, so don't try to wiggle out of it."

He opened his eyes and grinned at her.  "Hah—you just want me to take off my shirt again….." he teased.  As the young woman sputtered he added with a wise nod, "It's all that hentai manga you read; _*I* saw the titles.  That __Count Cain series is about as pervy as they come—"_

She whacked him on his good shoulder rather hard; he _OOF_ed and rocked back slightly, wincing as he nearly tumbled off the wall onto the bushes.  "Owowow!  Dammit, Aoko, quit with the assault and battery, willya?  I'm a wounded man!"

"Then YOU quit!  You started it!"  But she reached out and rubbed the offended shoulder as if it had been her own, as if offering an apology.  "I didn't really hurt you, did I?  I keep forgetting how badly you were shot—you look so much *better* now, and then you go and make a stupid remark like that…"

Undaunted (if a little bruised) he chuckled.  "Well, what am I _s'posed_ to think?  You keep taking my clothes off me—bet you were ogling my bod while I was asleep this evening too….."  At her sudden furious sunset of a blush he laughed harder than ever, a slightly startled note in his voice.  "You WERE?" he crowed_.  "Aoko!  If you had just said something a while ago I could have provided you with a bunch of nicely-posed photos…..  There's even one of me with a dove perched on my—"_

This time the blow she swung at him as she scrambled to her feet was even harder; he managed to duck it, but muttered a curse as he grabbed at his bandaged shoulder.  "—head.  My mom took it when I was nine months old; I'm lying on a blanket.  Okay, _okay….. Jeeze, this damned thing HURTS."  He scratched irritably at the bandages peeking out from beneath his shirt again.  Behind him one section of the foliage shook briefly; a sound that fell somewhere between a chirp and a muffled squawk emerged but went fortunately unnoticed by the pair sitting on the wall._

"Besides," added the thief rather philosophically, "if I gave you pics of *me* I'd expect you to pay me back in kind… and then I'd REALLY get a mop upside the head—"

_***WHAM!!!***_

It wasn't really a hard blow, quite light in fact; Nakamori Aoko pulled it at the last second, but it was just enough of a hit directly on top of his head to make Kaito wobble and finally fall over backwards directly onto a rather thick bush.  The bush went 'aaack', very quietly, the sound hidden in the crunching of branches as the wounded thief struggled to get out of its leafy embrace.  His usual agility impaired by his wounds and by weakness, he thrashed for a moment or two while the young woman watched critically.  Finally:  "Well, don't just STAND there, help me out!  Dammit, Aoko--!"

She blinked at him, smiling innocently.  "Did you hear something?" she inquired of the night air, looking up at the sky.  "It almost sounded like somebody wanted to _*apologize* to me…..?"_

"@#$%!!"

"The taxi should be here in a minute, too….."

**whimper**  "….. okay.  I'm sorry.  Really, honestly, truly, from the bottom of my heart and the depths of my nigh-endless regard for you.  Now could you _PLEASE_ get me out of here before I end up with Tetanus or something?"   The bush beneath Kaito made a sort of strangled grunt as he was carefully hoisted from its branches and pulled back up onto the wall, where he tried to catch his breath, hugging himself around his bandages a bit.  "You could have a _little mercy, y'know…..  I *did* save your father's life, not that Nakamori'd treat me any better if he found me….."_

"Like father, like daughter," responded his assailant promptly—and then she froze as the hand that was carefully picking leaf-litter and twigs from his jacket paused at the feel of dampness.  "I—you've started _bleeding_ again, and it's my fault!  Kaito—"

He shook his head, his breath hitching a little.  "Never mind, it's okay, really.  It'll probably do it a time or two more before it closes up, anyway—besides, it doesn't hurt _*that*_ much."  The young thief ran the fingers of his good hand through his hair, dislodging a shower of debris.  "Truth to tell, I'm kind of surprised at how _little it hurts…..  Did your dad recover this fast from that shot he took?" _

As a taxi pulled up to the curb, the Inspector's daughter shook her head and frowned.  "Noooo…. In fact, he couldn't even wiggle his toes without making a real fuss about it for about three or four days."  She helped him up from the wall; behind him the bushes settled back with a sigh.  "Must be that 'clean living' you mentioned."

He snorted, leaning heavily on her shoulder.  "Either that or a thick head….."

An address was given, the taxi door closed, and they were gone.

* * * * *

"@#$%#!!  &*#@!! That utter, complete %#$@!!" muttered the small figure that pulled itself out from beneath the crushed bush, twigs sticking out from collars, cuffs, hair and wherever else they had semi-permanently entangled themselves.   A scratched cheek was cupped in a hand, and a set of glasses were picked up from the ground.

"Thanks….."  Conan absentmindedly slid them back on, shaking his head.  "…..and you get onto ME for swearing….."

"Well, how was *I* to know he was going to *sit* on me, for heaven's sake?!?  I almost shot him with a tranq-dart, but I couldn't get a good aim… and by the way, why aren't we rushing off after them both on the skateboard?"  Ran pulled a particularly well-entrenched branch from her long hair, wincing.  "Shouldn't we be in—I don't know, hot pursuit or something?"

The boy pulled himself up onto the wall so recently vacated by their quarries.  "Nope," he said, with a very sneaky, very 'I-have-you-now' sort of smile.  "Want to know why?"

Rin's look spoke volumes as he pulled her up to join him; the young woman in small girl's clothing reached up and pulled a leaf from behind his ear.  "Why?"

_"Because he gave his address to the taxi-driver,_ that's why.  And _now we know where Kaitou Kid __lives."  Edogawa Conan sighed contentedly and with deep satisfaction._

Her eyes grew large.  "Oh.  OH."  She reached across and tugged a leaf free from Conan's hair, speculation written on her face as she thought over what they had seen and heard from their rather peculiar vantage point.  At that moment she looked more like her old self than usual—Ran had had the same habit of staring into space while she thought.  "So what do we know BESIDES that so far, then?"

The boy beside her ticked off the points on his fingers.  "One:  He *was* injured, and with more than one bullet-wound.  Two:  His accomplice is named Nakamori Aoko—and if she's who she _seems,_ she's the daughter of the police inspector that heads up the taskforce in charge of _catching him.  Three:  She just found out his secret, and I do mean JUST.  Four:  He has a second accomplice named Jii.  And five….."  He paused, a shadow passing over his face._

"'Five'?" prompted Rin.

He looked at her, and there was no mistaking the puzzlement and hesitation in his dark blue eyes.  "Five:  He risked—and _*paid* with—disclosure to that young woman in order to save her father's life."  Conan scowled in frustration, the last vestiges of his smile fading as his hands tightened into small fists.  "WHY can't he just be a nice, uncomplicated villain, dammit?"  One of the fists pounded on the concrete between them.  "I gave him a break when we talked at the park, mostly because he seemed as stuck between a rock and a hard place as ****__we are, and also because… well, because I trust my instincts.  And my instincts said that, just this once, the world would be a better place with him *free* than with him *caught.*"_

"And now?"  Her low voice was non-committal, but there was an underlying edge of anger behind it.  Belatedly the boy recalled that she still held a distinct grudge against the thief for endangering Ayumi…_  *Whups.  Kid better watch out for his head.  When Ran gets that tone in her voice--*_

He tried to collect his thoughts and to think past his emotions.  "Now—we need more information.  You and I both read Nakamori's notes, and we both know about the shootout the other night; who's gunning for the two of them?  In the park, he told me enough that I know his father was murdered and that he's after his killer…"

A hand on his made Conan look up; Rin slid off the wall tugging at him impatiently.  "Let's go, then; you want more information, don't you?  **_*I*_ want to see what kind of place a Phantom Thief _lives_ in—"**

As he reached behind him for the skateboard (well-hidden in the bushes), a smile twitched at the corner of Conan's mouth; he looked over his glasses at the girl who was nearly hopping from one foot to the other as she waited.  "You really want to get this guy, don't you?  I never thought you'd be so revenge-minded—"

She paused, looking confused.  "Revenge?  What has this got to do with revenge?  _I_ just want to make sure he doesn't get _Ayumi_ in trouble—oh; you mean that thing with the Black Pearl?  When he knocked me out and took my place?"  Rin blinked, then cocked one eyebrow at him.  "It seems like such a long time ago…  I almost forgot about that, but I guess if I wanted to I could add it onto my agenda….."

Conan felt the hair on the back of his neck fairly stand up.  _*Errk; I almost feel sorry for Kid now--*  Hurriedly_ he changed the subject.  "Uhh, by the way, aren't your parents going to throw a few fits about our being out this late?  I mean, it's been hours—"

She climbed onto the board behind him, small hands clasped securely around his waist.  "No, because we're not here; we're at Agasa-hakase's house tonight."  Rin sounded rather pleased with herself; at his own raised eyebrows she continued cheerfully.  "When I saw you from the window I figured we'd be busy for a while—I've been on 'stake-outs' with you before, remember?—and I didn't want to worry them; so I called the Professor on the way down the stairs; he agreed to let us in whenever we make it home.  Mom and dad just think we're working on some research….."

As the night-time cells of his solar-driven skateboard started up the motor, the boy grunted.  "I guess we are, at that.  You know, I keep thinking there was something that Kid said when he was talking to that girl, something I missed—something _*important.*"  They began to move, and he scowled to himself as his hair blew back from his face.  "It's driving me nuts… I just KNOW he said something that I didn't catch—"_

Conan felt the arms around his waist hug him gently.  "We can think about it on the way over.  Do we have to go very far?"

Kudo Shinichi's grin—a sharp, confident grin, one that had spelled doom for a long list of criminals—made it's way onto Conan's face.  "Not far enough for Kid, I'd imagine….."

* * * * *

They were less than two blocks from their destination when things hit the fan.  "Shinichi….."

"Hmmm?"  _*Okay, a left here, and then… yeah—it ought to be around this corner—*_  He began the curve that would become a right-hand turn.

"Shinichi.  SHINICHI!!  **_STOP!!!"_**

**_***skreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeechWHAMMM!!!***_**

Unable to brake properly, the board continued on to hit the curb and pitch both passengers into a tumbling roll on somebody's lawn; behind a brick wall less than a dozen feet away, a dog began barking hysterically.  "What?  _WHAT??_  Ran, are you okay??  What---"  Conan sat up, somewhat wild-eyed with his hair over his face and his glasses dangling by one earpiece.

The little girl sat very, very still on the grass, almost shocked into immobility; at the horrified look of comprehension on her face Conan scrambled forward, his hands instinctively coming to rest on her shoulders.  "What is it?  Ran--??"

"I remembered…" she whispered; "I don't know why, but all of a sudden I _remembered!  I _know_ what it was you didn't catch….."  Her eyes were huge as she stared at him.  "Don't you _remember?!?_  It was when he was talking about the people that tried to kill Nakamori-san-- he said, 'Those bastards in black are gunning for him'-----  __Shinichi?  'In **_BLACK_'--!!"**_

_*…..**black….. oh God…..***_

His jaw dropped in shock and horror; for one long, long moment icewater seemed to have replaced his blood as realization flooded through Kudo Shinichi's mind and body, chilling him to the bone.  Facts that had not fit before, speculations and late-night ponderings were suddenly shuffled like a magician's deck of cards—

_*…he's been fighting the same enemy that WE have….. They're after him, and oh shit just being here is so goddamn dangerous—what if they're watching, what if they see us, see **Ran—***_

_*ohgod.__  No.  I've got to get her away—*_

--and when he came back to himself and the world, he realized that he was still clutching the small shoulders of the girl opposite him and that she was staring him mutely in the face, her eyes full of apprehension.  "It's _*them,*_ isn't it?" she whispered.

"I—"  He couldn't go on; cold fingers seemed to be tightening around his heart and his pulse drummed in his ears.

"It… could be a coincidence, I guess," said Rin's soft voice, very subdued; but the ice inside Shinichi's bones answered otherwise.

"We need to go home—if it's them, then there's no _WAY_ I'm taking you anywhere near—"  He scrambled to his feet, grabbing at the skateboard with shaky hands.  It looked a little worse for wear, but seemed to still work.  "Come _on,"_ he hissed, looking around swiftly in near-panic; "We need to—"

Rin shook her head violently, quickly putting a finger against his lips as she glanced at the house they were beside; figures were moving behind the blinds, drawn by the sounds outside.  The girl pointed silently at the skateboard and made a sort of slashing gesture with the side of one hand, signifying 'no board = less noise'; drawing a hard breath her companion nodded, and they gathered themselves up and headed as quietly as possible down the street.

As soon as a convenient alleyway presented itself, the small couple stepped aside into the deeper shadows.  "Fine, we're away from the houses, let's get GOING now—" muttered Conan as he dropped the board to the pavement.  His thoughts raced ahead of his body, making single-minded tracks for safety… somewhere.  Ran's?  Agasa's?  Somewhere—

He had one foot on the board when Rin's hand caught his shoulder, spinning him around to face her.  "Shinichi—stop _panicking!  We've got to think this out before we go running off someplace, okay?  What's WRONG with you?  You don't usually spook like this—"_

 The shaken face that stared at her in the shadowed alley was clearly Kudo Shinichi's, despite the glasses and the childishness of the rounded features; only Shinichi got that frantic need-to-move-right-NOW look.  It filled his eyes, wiping away any resemblance to a little boy that was left (not that there was much, after the shock of realization that he had had) with its urgency; he looked afraid and he didn't care who saw it.

"What's there to think about?" he snapped back, pulling away a little.  "We can't just ignore something like that—don't you understand?  They may know about me, they may know about Ai, but the *don't* know about *you* yet!"  He drew a sharp breath.  "If they're watching his house they'll see us, and then they'll put two and two together—"

She caught his other shoulder and shook him by them slightly.  "Shinichi, don't you think they could do that without seeing me?  I mean, all it would take would be a watcher or two around _our_ place to see that Mouri Ran's gone and I'm there in her place; if they really *do* suspect you, then they probably already know about me too."  Rin's voice was almost steady; she let go of one shoulder to reach up and touch his face in a gentle, feather-light touch, drawing a deep breath of her own.  "It's… probably too late already, don't you think?"

"No, I don't."  The dark blue eyes behind the lenses had hardened now, steadying.  "Because if they _*knew,*_ we'd both be dead.  So we're not going to take stupid risks, okay?  We're turning around right now and going home."

Rin glared back at him dropping her hands to her hips.  "Now you LISTEN to me, Kudo Shinichi!  We are *NOT* turning around and running, no matter how much we might want to—or have you forgotten who _else_ could be trouble because of this?!?"  

The boy's eyes sharpened further, turning inwards as his mind darted from fact to conjecture to possibility, coming slowly to a horrifying conclusion…..

"--No—" he whispered; "If Ayumi-kun gets hurt…. If they connect him in any way to her, she's in danger _too,_ now….."

"That's right," said Himitsu Rin quietly.  "She's probably safe at the moment—but we can't gamble on that, can we?  We have to find out everything we can—"  She regarded the boy beside her for a long moment, her eyes softening at the way he almost seemed to curl up on himself in dread; he was so afraid for her, for Ayumi, for himself…..  So Rin stepped forward and did something that only happened rarely, something that they had both shied away from for the most part since her transformation:  she wrapped her small arms around the boy in front of her and held him tightly, as tightly as any young woman might have held the young man she loved.  He shivered once and then clung to her, resting his head on her shoulder, his eyes almost closed.

_*…Ran…*_

"I'm sorry…..  I can't let you get hurt; they've screwed up our lives so much already and they're killers, Ran; Gin, Vodka, all the rest…" he whispered; she nodded silently, accepting this.  "But I can't let Ayumi pay for Kid's stupid mistakes—or for _mine._  I should have turned him in when I found out she was meeting him."  His eyes were closed and his face tight with tension, but his hands held her gently.

Rin stroked his hair as she had done so many times when he had just been Conan-kun and she had been Ran-neechan; her eyes were closed, her expression much older than any young girl's should have been.  "You did what you thought was right; and Shinichi?  Maybe it was the right thing to do.  From what you said, _*he's* suffered too, hasn't he?  His father, and now that girl's father too—"_

Conan raised his head, stepping a little back so that he could see Rin's face; a car going by threw headlight-beams across the alley like a passing thought.  "But… didn't you want to—"

"—see him arrested?"  She actually smiled a little, a grim little smile.  "Only if he can't help.  But it seems to me that there might be a little more common ground between all of us now than we thought there was, ne?"

"…I… yes," he growled back, desperation and a strange, almost angry wonder in the words.  "There _is."_

There really wasn't much else to be said.

* * * * *

They made the rest of their way as silently as was possible, flitting through the shadows like frightened, preadolescent ghosts.  Any watchers, Conan reasoned, would be keeping an eye on the front door at the very least; therefore the main street was off-limits.  It was rather surreal to look at the normal, almost prosaic house in the everyday neighborhood and realize just who lived there-- you just didn't expect normalcy, not from the residence of Kaitou Kid, Phantom Thief Extraordinaire.  Phantom Thieves weren't supposed to have lawns that could really do with cutting; Phantom Thieves weren't supposed to have next-door-neighbors hanging the laundry out.  It was rather hard to know just WHAT they were supposed to have, but other than the dove-cote in the back the whole place looked very, very ordinary.

Or perhaps that was simply very good camouflage.

Lights were on inside, so they dared not approach the house to read the name on the mailbox by the front door, even if they had wanted to—not that it was necessary; a quick look in the trashbins at the back of the property produced a sheaf of discarded high-school homework with a name at the top of each page:  _Kuroba Kaito._

**_Kuroba_****_ Kaito._**

They both stared at the rather sloppily-written characters for quite a long time before Conan carefully folded the papers up and stowed them in his pocket.  Neither one of them was quite ready to say anything out loud, but as they stared up at the house an idea began to take shape in the young detective's mind…..

He drew Rin back from the trashbins with him; they crept quietly along the brick fence that edged the yard, keeping to the shadows.  As they passed by one lit window the distinctive sound of a shower could be heard through the textured glass (as well as remarkably tuneless whistling) and Conan paused, feeling somewhat better and less shaken as his idea developed into a definite _plan._  Plans were good; he liked plans.  And that bathroom window there…..  Oh, he could *use* that window.

_*Perfect.  If THIS doesn't rattle him, nothing will.  And I think it's about time *somebody* yanked Kaitou Kid's chain for a change.*_

The boy eyed the brick fence and then the level of the windowsill beyond it; they weren't _*that* high—he had climbed worse before, and with his companion's help it shouldn't be too much of a problem.  No dogs in the yard to cause trouble either; they would have heard them.  He turned to the girl beside him, who had leaned over to tie her shoe (and who was currently attempting to refrain from knotting her long hair in with the laces).  "Hey, Rin?" he whispered; "Do you happen to have a pen or a marker or something like that on you?"_

***************************************************************************************************

Being at home after Full Disclosure was… weird; weird with a capital "W", weird as in "Why aren't I in jail?"

But weird was a _*really good thing*_ at the moment, as far as Kaito was concerned; he had no complaints with weird.  As the young thief flumphed down onto the living room couch with a sigh, his eyes closed and he felt the cushions beside him shift as Aoko sank down with a little more grace.  The backpack she had dropped begin to make muffled complaints; she leaned forward and unzipped it to allow its feline passenger's release.

_*Sure hope there aren't any doves inside right now; shouldn't be, though—they should all be roosting this late at night.*_  Kaito could feel himself relaxing for what seemed like the first time in ages; he was home, home, home sweet home….. and Aoko knew everything and hadn't totally freaked or beaten his brains in with the nearest blunt instrument.  

_THAT_ part still kept amazing him, no matter how many times he ran it through his head.

_*And since I've talked to her, I guess it's time I sat down and had a little heart-to-heart with Mom, too.  It's not like she doesn't know—she HAS to, she reads the papers and even though Jii tends to shut up Big Time when I mention Mom, I can't imagine that she didn't know what Dad did some nights.  Wonder if she ever had to patch up any bullet-wounds in HIS hide?*_  If there was one thing that Kuroba Kaito had it was a healthy respect for his mother; not _all his talents came from his father's side of the family…_

"D'you want the first shower or should I go ahead?" he asked without opening his eyes.  This wasn't exactly the first time Aoko had stayed with him—they knew each other's houses inside out (or at least Aoko THOUGHT she knew his; he had a surprise or two to show her later concerning that little subject).  All the important things like where the extra towels were kept and so forth weren't a problem, so Kaito was a little nonplussed at the moment of silence following his question; he cracked one eye open cautiously.

Oh; she was blushing—and didn't she look awfully good like that, all red-cheeked?  He chuckled to himself—it was a favorite hobby of his, making Aoko blush.  Now, how to handle this?  He could either reassure her that *some* things hadn't changed or he could take his chances and make her blush even harder, thus risking life and limb due to her wrath.  Which option to choose?

Stupid question.  Kaito was just opening his mouth to say something about them saving on hot water by showering together (he might need help with his bandages, after all) when he realized that just maybe this was *not* the time to get thwacked over the head with a lamp or something—he was injured enough as it was.  So, saving the remark for later, he gave her a one-shouldered shrug and said "Why don't you go first?  You're quicker than me; 'sides, this—" and he tapped his bandages carefully, "—may take me a little time."

Some of Aoko's blush faded as she stood up, eyeing him dubiously.  "Can you manage by yourself okay?"

_*Oooh; what an opening….. no, shouldn't say anything, should be good and behave and… and… uhhh……  OH well, what the hell.  A lamp across the skull can't hurt much more than a mop—!*_  Kaito grinned disarmingly up at her, eyebrows rising.  "Hmmmmm….. I dunno— I mean, if you're offering to scrub my _back, I won't say no….."  And then he got ready to duck._

To his utter astonishment (and continued good health) Aoko proceeded to turn an amazing beet-red, stammered something unintelligible and then turned to flee up the stairs to the bathroom with remarkable speed.  He stared after her, jaw dropping… and wondered somewhat giddily just what exactly he would have done if she had said something as unlikely as _'Okay; let's go…'_

Great; now HE was beet-red.  Allowing his head to fall backwards onto the couch again, Kaito rested his forearm across his eyes and tried to ignore the tiny, feline sounds indicating that Spot was snickering at him from beneath the couch.

* * * * *

Aoko was done fairly quickly; she apparently had taken refuge in the guest room, if her shout of "I'm finished, it's all yours" and the slamming of a door was any indication.  Eyes still closed, Kaito grinned to himself fondly; she was still flustered.

He heaved himself carefully up from the couch, staggering more than just a little; he might be feeling better, but that didn't mean he was feeling WELL just yet—and for that matter, how the hell was he supposed to get up all those stairs?  The downstairs bathroom didn't *have* a shower…..  Well, he was damned if he'd yell for help; yelling for help meant admitting that he couldn't make it on his own, that he was weak, that he needed to be draped across Aoko again…..

(….. and she'd be fresh out of her shower, wouldn't she, with her damp hair all tangled and sweet-smelling and her face still flushed as pink as any rose…..)

_* ! ! !   Oooooh…..  And I really COULD do with the help, to be truthful.*_

"Aoko?  Um, Aoko?  I hate to bother you….." (deep breath, slightly pained tone added to voice) "…but do you think you can help me up the stairs?"

The sound of a dismayed, startled exclamation came from above, just audible through the ceiling.  A door opened; the young thief chuckled softly even as he made a slightly guilty promise to himself to Be A Gentleman.

_*Maybe I'm going a bit overboard—I mean, we only just now started this 'physical' aspect of  things and I shouldn't overdo it, I guess; but damned if I'm not enjoying it….. and I don't hear any complaints coming from Aoko 'bout it either.*_  Kaito leaned against the banister and tried to look pathetically grateful as steps hurried down the stairs from above.

* * * * *

Aoko _*HAD* smelled just wonderful.   Kaito whistled aimlessly to himself as the water from the shower splashed down, making him feel roughly three thousand percent better than he had all day._

_*Roses; she smelled like roses.  Wonder how she managed that?  Must just be something about her—she tasted like roses when I kissed her earlier this evening too.  Never knew she liked roses so much.*_

After a few minutes of thought, he had left the bandages on; after all, removing them would hurt, and he had had enough hurting for a while.  Aoko had also pointed out quite helpfully that soaking them would loosen any dried blood and make their removal a lot easier, too, after he got out of the shower.

_*She's probably camped out in the hall with scissors, tape, gauze, antiseptic and anything else she can think of to torture me with,* _he thought with a mental sigh as he tried to scrub his hair with one hand.  Shampoo-foam ran into his eyes and he cursed briefly at the sting—and then wondered how in the *world* something as small as a little soap in the eyes could bother him after getting a whonking huge hole in the shoulder…

_*I really, really DO feel better,*_ he thought in wonder; a slight tinge of uneasiness was beginning to seep in around the edges when he remembered just how miserable he had felt the day before.  _*I'm a quick healer, always have been—but THIS fast?  It still hurts like hell, but it was damned near incapacitating only twenty-four hours ago; did I damage some nerves or something?*  _Water running down from the soaked bandages was an alarming red, but he didn't feel that tickling, sticky sensation that announced fresh bleeding at the moment; that was good.  _*Well, shit—why worry?  If it's getting better it's getting better; good.  I'm gonna have enough trouble handling things over the next few days anyway…..*_

A strong twinge shot through Kaito's abused, damaged muscles as he carefully raised his left arm a little and worked his fingers:  fist, individual fingers-to-thumb, extension, curl… all the small exercises that magicians use to limber up.  It hurt, but not nearly as much as he had expected it to.  And it helped him think, which was entirely good, because he was drawing a blank just then on how to deal with—

_*WhattheHELLwas**THAT?!?***_

He had heard a _sound,_ he was sure of it…..

Before the thought of moving had even crossed Kuroba Kaito's brain, Kaitou Kid had taken up a defensive posture in the corner of the bathroom by the door, cardgun in hand with his finger on the trigger.  His eyes were fixed steadily on the bathroom's one small window where the tiny sound had come from:  a tapping, the minutest of knocking…..

There was something taped to the outside of the window; rectangular and white, it looked like a note.  If it had been a ticking time-bomb it could not have been more alarming.

Slowly the phantom thief became aware of the disadvantages of his situation; first off, he was butt-naked and soaking wet with shampoo-suds sliding down into his eyes; secondly, he was wounded and in his civilian locale—one place where he did not, not, NOT want any sort of confrontations whatsoever.  So that meant he wasn't calling Aoko, no way, no how…..

And somebody had left a note on HIS window; now, the question was, was it for Kuroba Kaito or for Kaitou Kid?  Somehow he doubted that it was from anyone as relatively harmless as Hakuba-kun…..

A horrible suspicion ran across his mind, pursued by visions of short little detectives with deceptively innocent faces.  _*Eeep.  Please let it have been Hakuba-kun…..*_

It took a few minutes before he would allow himself to slide back the window; after all, there might be watchers or snipers out there—there might be any number of deadly things just waiting to see who reached out.  But at last he gritted his teeth, flattened himself along the wall and opened the glass an inch or so—just far enough to reach through with two fingers and tug the note inside.

The Phantom Thief read the note as his heartbeat thundered in his ears; droplets from his hair blurred the ink, but not enough—not _nearly_ enough.  _*OhhhhhhhSHIT.*_

_*I had almost rather it HAD been a sniper…..*_

The words were written in black felt-tip marker, each character clean and precise where it crossed a piece of last week's homework.  Kaito felt his stomach sink to somewhere in the vicinity of his toes as cold realization struck home:

**_WE NEED TO TALK, KUROBA—SAME TERMS AS IN THE PARK.  CONTACT ME—  K.S._**

The young thief leaned against the wall, water droplets running down from his soaked hair and mingling with the sudden sheen of sweat that had popped up; he closed his eyes in numb shock.  _*He knows my name.  The shrimp…. knows my real name…..*_

* * * * *

Outside the Kuroba house, the quiet, soft rumble of a skateboard's wheels diminished into the distance.

***************************************************************************************************

TO BE CONTINUED…..__

**_Ysabet's_****_ Notes:  _**_***evil laughter***…..  Things are well and truly cooking now—smoke all over the place, little flames, and the smell of burning (hey, that's how *I* cook!). I wonder if any of you can see where this is going? Probably; it's okay if you can—I have many, many horrible things planned to do to all parties involved; the question is, just how many of the torments I have in mind should be inflicted upon whom?  Decisions, decisions….._

_ So:  Got milk?  _

_Sorry, couldn't resist.  And I almost wish I hadn't made that awful joke about KK having a pic of himself with a dove perched on his 9-month-old head….. must repress evil fanart thoughts, must repress evil fanart thoughts, must repress evil fanart thoughts….._

_PLEASE__ review—I really need to hear your responses on THIS one.  Especially the romantic bits; I have a few ideas, but they would up the level of the fic just a little (they would NOT make it a lemon, thanks very much—that tone just wouldn't work with this one, though I've nothing against lemons in the right setting.  The ideas that've popped up lately might make it just a tad citrusy now and then, though…  I mean, don't YOU all get tired of all the almost-a-relationship song and dance occasionally? (of course I'm talking about, say, Heiji and Kazuha or Kaito and Aoko, NOT Conan and Rin; give me a break!)  Whatcha think?  Or should I leave it as is?  They wouldn't be gratuitous, I promise, but would be a natural progression of the plot….. okay, well, maybe a *little* gratuitous….. )  Let me know what you think, hmmm?_


	10. Extra Credit

**_Chapter 10:  Extra Credit_**

There are certain things in the world that can be counted upon as dependable.  For instance, if you drop a piece of buttered toast, you can pretty much bet that it'll land buttered-side-down (despite the fact that this _*should*_ only happen about fifty percent of the time).  If you sit down in front of a TV and are desperate for entertainment, there'll be nothing on but reruns, long-winded political speeches and telemarketing infomercials.  And, of course, if you wear a white outfit, sooner or later you're going to spill something on it; it's a given.  White outfits attract stains in the same way that ailurophobes attract cats.

A few other certainties exist as well; a good example would be the Law of Generic Reporting.  No matter how interesting the subject matter is, no matter how peculiar or utterly remarkable the facts that go into it are, if a study of a subject produces a report then the actual act of _writing_ said report will reduce everything to mind-numbing, boring, slumber-inducing minutiae.  You could produce a write-up on the immanent second coming of Christ (complete with a detailed timetable and schedule for Rapture take-offs and arrivals in Heaven) and it would still put the Pope to sleep after about eight minutes of reading.  That's just how these things are.

Despite this law, however, some reports can be more interesting than others.  For instance, the one being printed out on a small portable printer in a Tokyo hotel room.  It was no more than two pages long, mostly composed of dates and short notations beside each one in excruciatingly exact officialese.  For the most part anyone reading it (a police officer, for instance, or a private detective) would recognize it after a moment as the kind of notes one would take during a stake-out—detailed and based on times and movements.  Boring, boring, boring ad infinitum.

A little closer reading, however, might take away the boredom and replace it with uneasiness—and eventual alarm…..

It's amazing, really, how easily the business of death can be reduced simply to _*business.*_

_--------------------------------------------------------------_

_10/6/02-Sunday, 12:03 a.m. – Subject 8736 arrived at home address via taxi, accompanied by lone female (8977); appeared somewhat injured, moved slower than norm and favored left arm and side, required some aid in walking.  8977 appeared uninjured.  House appeared unoccupied prior to arrival (see pages 1-2); previously observed designees 8698 (female, parent of 8736) and 8713 (elderly male, relationship unknown) have not yet returned.  8736, 8977 entered house; interior lights stayed on approximately 1.75 hours, exterior remained on until dawn.  No other approaches noted (some small amounts of noise in back alley around wastecans, probably strays).  Phonetaps remain unable to be placed due to security devices placed in the past by terminated 8697 (updated periodically by current subject of report as well as by 8713 in past years; possible termination of 8713 suggested)._

_** Note:  8736 was upright and moving without major impairment despite reported severity of injury; anomaly.  Close viewing through infrared binocs was not detailed enough to show whether or not suspected physical changes were apparent.  Both 8736 and 8977 will continue to be watched until an order is given to capture or terminate.  _

_**Query:  Taxi-driver will be approached and pickup address obtained; should regular termination procedures be followed in driver's case?  As per policy, if no answer is received by time of interview driver will be terminated via usual methods.  Also:  Should usual methods of surveillance be set in operation regarding residents of pickup location, or should residents be questioned and then terminated?_

_--------------------------------------------------------------_

_Surveillance of 8736 and related subjects will continue under heightened alert-status; reports will be produced at twice-daily intervals unless requested otherwise.  If any termination order of main subject 8736 or related subjects (8698, 8713, 8977, etc.) is given, methods of operation will be requested prior to act.  It is understood that these are considered to be actively useful subjects; unnecessary termination is not currently an option.  Future capture and interrogation may yet be an option, however, pending orders._

_**Note:  Related subject 8975 (male, parent of 8977) has not yet returned to adjoining property after __10/4/02__ termination attempt (see report XP90822).  No onsite activity apparent since _10/6/02___ a.m. departure of 8977._

_**Query:  If 8975 comes in range, should the termination order currently in effect be followed?  Considering 8975's past habits, said subject will not stay unlocatable for long—termination can be carried out in a number of locations and by a number of methods.  Please provide preferred location, if any.  Should termination methods include extreme prejudice, or is discretion preferred?  Per policy, if no answer is received by time of 8975's coming in range, termination will proceed at first opportunity and by any methods at hand._

_--------------------------------------------------------------_

The pages slid quietly into the printer's output tray, neat and precise; the trenchcoated man waiting patiently for their arrival gathered them up, checked them briefly for accuracy, and then dropped them into the machine's fax-slot for sending.   A button was pushed, and the report was on its way to its destination…..

Just business as usual.  

The black-clad man yawned once as the pages buzzed their way through, his bored eyes glinting with a golden, catlike luminescence in the darkened hotel room.

*******************************************************************************************************

_*Oh man…..*_  Kuroba dripped all over his bathroom floor as he stared, aghast, at what was written across the piece of paper he clutched in one soapy hand:

**_WE NEED TO TALK, KUROBA—SAME TERMS AS IN THE PARK.  CONTACT ME—  K.S._**

_*Oh Shit Oh Dear.  This does NOT bode well; in fact, it pretty damn near bodes about as bad as it can get; the only thing that'd be worse right now would be if Nakamori suddenly showed up at the door with an arrest warrant in hand--*_

***KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!!***

**_*Gaaaaaahhh!!!*_**  He leaped a foot, nearly dropping the note in the toilet.  "W-what?!?" he stammered, pressed against one wall of the small room with his heart pounding.

"Kaito?  Are you okay?  I thought I heard you sort of thudding around in there—"  The rather uncertain voice did indeed belong to a Nakamori, but not the one he was worried about.  Well, not in the usual sort of way, the one involving handcuffs and jail cells and long-term stays in the hoosegow…..   _*This*_ Nakamori tended to worry him in totally different (and not completely unwelcome) areas, often involving his heart.

The young thief tried to collect his thoughts.  _*Deep breath; hold it in—let it out.  Okay, no hyperventilating.*_  "Uhh, not exactly.  Be out in a minute—"  With care he placed the horrific scrap of paper that had so unsettled him in the pocket of the bathrobe hanging on the doorknob and ducked back into the shower.

_*Right….. don't panic, don't panic, don't panic.  You *KNEW* there was a good chance this was gonna happen, especially after you got 'Yumi-chan involved.  Kudo's as stubborn and tenacious as they come—and really protective of his friends; matter of fact, the really odd thing about that note was the bit about "same terms as in the park."  He *still* wants a truce?  That's….. weird.  Great, fine, fantastic—but weird.  If it was me…..*_  He cranked up the blast of water, washing the last of the shampoo and a little of his tension away beneath the deluge; _*If it was me, I'd have me in jail so fast my bearings would smoke.  Maybe he's afraid I'll drag Ayumi down too--?  Nahh; I don't think I made THAT bad an impression.*  As Kaito turned off the tap, he grinned faintly at the memory of Conan's outraged face as he had quipped about setting his little apprentice up with a miniature hang-glider and taking her on heists.  He had only been—well, 'Kidding,' actually—but the joke had nearly earned him a hyper-propelled pinecone in the face._

_*Touchy, touchy, Kudo-san.  You don't REALLY think I'd let anything happen to 'Yumi-chan, do you?  Not in this lifetime.*_

He stepped out, reaching for a towel and absentmindedly beginning to dry off; the floor was rather wet after his impromptu early exit, but it wasn't too bad.  _*So why's he being so—so *civilized* about this?  There's got to be a reason—*  _

Kaito yawned again, the tension leaching out of his shoulders as tiredness replaced it.  No matter how stressed he was by Kudo's stupid note, his body was taking over and insisting that he rest.  And Aoko was almost _definitely waiting for him outside the door with the first-aid kit…… and with questions, too….._

He paused in the act of awkwardly tugging on a pair of old sweatpants; what in the *world* was he going to tell her about Kudo?  He couldn't explain everything—well, he _could, but…  __*Dammit; I said I'd keep quiet about his secret, but—this isn't a case of 'What Aoko doesn't know won't hurt me' anymore.  Maybe I could explain just a *little*?  Enough so that she'd understand he's somebody we need to watch out for, but also somebody who's on the side of the angels?*  Kaito shrugged himself carefully into a rather ratty bathrobe, shoving his wet hair out of his eyes…_

… not noticing that he was using his _left_ hand to do so.

The young magician carefully creaked the door open—or he _would have, if somebody hadn't been sitting with their back against it.  "Mmph?" said Aoko, rubbing at her eyes and blinking up at him.  Despite his tension, her friend had to smile at the sight she presented, all tousled and sleepy in an old robe and set of his mother's pajamas.  "About time—I thought you had slid down the drain or something— Kaito?  Kaito, what's wrong?"  The young woman's tired eyes grew wider as they stared up at him.  "You look… sort of… stressed?  I mean, more stressed than before….."_

_*Damn; should've put on my Poker Face.*_  He sighed and pulled out Kudo's note from his pocket.  "This."

Aoko peered up at it as she climbed to her feet, hefting the first-aid kit as if it were a weapon; Kaito eyed the kit askance.  "That's… last Thursday's science quiz?  Kaito, you have the weirdest sense of priorities… oh."  She frowned as he turned it over and she read the lines written crosswise on the page.  "Who in the world is 'K.S.'?  And _WHAT terms?  And why are you worrying about this __now?"_

"Because it just got delivered via my bathroom window," he reported glumly.  At her raised eyebrows he hesitated, scratching the back of his soggy head.  "It's sort of a long story—"

"Then you can tell me a quick version while I'm bandaging you and the rest after we both get some sleep," she answered with a scowl.  "I mean, it _*can*  wait 'til tomorrow—later today, whatever—right?  Good."   Catching him by the elbow, she steered him firmly towards his bedroom.  "THIS needs to be taken care of right now…"_

He blinked, stumbling a little as she dragged him down the hall towards his bed; _*Aoko, if you keep giving me straight lines like this, I'm not gonna be able to restrain myself.  But then, you're about to bandage me up and you could HURT me if you wanted to, so I'll be good…..*_

_*…Well, at least I'll TRY to be good.  No promises.  Heh…..*_

A few minutes later saw him sitting down with his bathrobe pooling around his waist as the young woman carefully peeled off the sodden bandages; her fingers were very careful and gentle on his bare skin despite the occasional threat to whap him with the nearest blunt object if he didn't quit squirming.  It was hard not to squirm, though, even with the best of intentions; Kaito _ITCHED._  That was an improvement over pain, he supposed, but it was driving him crazy.

At last the final strips of tape were peeled away and he braced himself as she loosened the soaked pads from his wounded shoulder; it made sense to do it first, since the droplets would run downwards and soak the new bandages on his side if she did that instead.  _*Fine,* he grumbled inside his head, bracing himself; _*Just get it over with--*__

Funny; it didn't hurt _nearly _as much as he had thought it would, being exposed to air again; he kept his face turned away, not wanting to see the torn, reddened flesh.  Aoko had paused, though; her hands were still, continuing to rest on either side of the wound—did it look THAT bad?  "Aoko?  What's wrong?"  _*What, is it infected or something?  Doesn't feel like it—other than itching, it's not really too painful…*_

She sounded a bit odd when she answered.  "Your wound… it's healing…"  The sodden bandages fell to the floor in front of him with a soggy splat.

_*???*_  "Uhhhh—isn't that sort of the idea?  I mean, that's *good,* right?  --Aoko?"  Kaito turned his head to look up at her; she had the strangest expression on her face…..

And _then_ he looked at his shoulder.  _***WHATthe****hell?!?***_  Slowly he raised his good hand to touch the wound, running hesitant, curious fingers across—

_*--it shouldn't LOOK like that--!!*_

--across red, undoubtedly painful, definitely bloodstained but also definitely *_unbroken skin* where a ragged tear in his shoulder had been the night before.  Impossibly, unbelievably, what had been a bruised, swollen perforation had closed in on itself and mended as if it were many days old rather than less than two._

_*No way.  NO way.  That's…..*_  

His eyes must have been bugging out as he regarded his own body with shock and something that was akin to horror.  "Holy shit, Batman," Kaito said faintly as a wave of shakiness washed across his mind; "What…??  Aoko, _what--?"  He couldn't seem to get the questions out as the young woman in front of him _STARED_, first at his shoulder, then at his face, then back at his shoulder….._

"Kaito?" said the Inspector's daughter carefully, her voice rather small; "Kaito, did you… **_do_ **something to make it heal like this?"  Her eyes were enormous.

"Like WHAT?" he asked helplessly, swallowing hard.  He ran cautious fingertips across the skin again; it hurt, but it felt sort of like—  "It's… like it happened _weeks ago…..  Aoko, I—"  He stopped to swallow again, and his voice was a little higher in pitch when he went on.  "Aoko, I may be a magician, but I'm NOT—not--  I mean, hell *NO* I didn't do anything!!"  _

"But—but you HAD to!  K-Kaito, bullet-holes don't just, just seal up like that.  You _HAD to have done something--!!"  The young woman's fingers were still gripping his body to either side of what had been the wound, but her fingers were no longer warm; they were cold and damp, sweating, and she let go abruptly as she pulled away._

Kaito sat back a little further on the bed, his mind reeling at the sheer impossibility of the whole thing.  "What the hell could I _do??.....  _Ohhh man—will you _look at that… it's completely healed over….."  Tremulously he brought his touch around to the back, where the worst damage had been—exit wounds were always worse than entrance wounds.  _

And then he shivered, jerking his hands away as if burned by his own body; the flesh had joined back together there too.  It _hurt,_ but—

_*Oh jeeze….. this is beyond weird, this is just…  I don't understand.  WHY am I all healed up?*_  Mutely the young magician raised his eyes to his companion's face; she had backpedaled a few feet away by now, her hands clutching each other tightly.  "Aoko?  Aoko, don't freak out on me, please—"  He must have sounded pleading enough, since she nodded silently and then reached out, her own fingertips barely grazing the puckered, newly healed skin.

"How--?"  Bewildered, she sat down on the bed beside him; he shifted a little closer to the headboard as she stripped away the tape and gauze from his ribs, her hands trembling faintly.  Kaito kept his own hands flat on the bed behind him, propping himself up; but as the last pad was peeled away, he could tell by Aoko's swiftly indrawn breath and the raw feeling on his skin that the results were the same.  He dared a glance; _*Yep.  Looks about three weeks old.  Ooooookay, we're going to be hearing either the background music to a Shimizu Takashi horror film or the Twilight Zone theme or something like that any minute now—*_

Aoko was staring at him with an expression that shuttled back and forth between astonishment, near-fright, confusion and suspicion over and over again; she opened her mouth and then closed it, clearly not knowing quite what to say.  Kaito blinked at her.  "Did—did I ever tell you about how we Phantom Thieves have amazing Psychic Healing Powers?  They come with the cape and monocle….." he asked, the joke wobbling almost as badly as his voice was doing.

_*Heh—guess that steadied her a bit,*_ he thought, watching as her shocked face shifted into immanent Death-By-Mop mode.  _*Wish I could say the same for me.  Something's happened to me and I don't know what it is, I can't even begin to *guess* what it is, and I don't know where to start—*_

_*--oh, and now Aoko's gonna thwack me, too--*_  Kaito held up a hand (his left one, he noted rather wildly) to fend her off as she reached for a book from his nightstand.  "Aaack!  Okay, okay—I'll be good."  She dropped the book, but looked slightly calmer; he had noticed before that blowing off a little steam tended to do that for her.  The young thief shook his head, reaching up to run his hand across his ribs and marveling at the ticklish, nearly painless sensation there; he shook his head in wonder.  "It's really healed, isn't it?"

She glowered at him.  "It looks that way.  Kaito--?  You _*have*_ to know SOME reason it'd heal like that—it couldn't just—just—I mean, out of the blue like that—when my dad got shot it looked _awful for a long—and your ribs and your shoulder look like—"_

Even in his dumbfounded state he had to grin.  "Aoko, you're babbling.  Calm down, will you?  I'm as staggered as you are, really; haven't a clue why the hell things've healed up like this.  No, no really—yeah, REALLY, I promise!"  He moved the book out of her reach, wincing a little as he used his left arm again.  "It still hurts, but… it's not bad.  And it should still be bleeding when I use it; I just don't understand at all….."

The Inspector's daughter looked at him uncertainly from her place beside him.  "But--  Kaito, are you--  Have you ever, well, _done_ anything like this before?"  At his definite headshake, her brows drew down and she scowled at his ribs, tracing her fingertips across the marks there again.  "You'll have a scar—you already HAVE a scar—and that's what this looks like:  like new scar tissue, like all the healing's been speeded up."  She leaned closer, examining his shoulder now with her face nearly nose-to-collarbone.  "And the muscle's all dimpled, but it, it's sort of growing back in, I think—"

He swallowed; the new skin was awfully sensitive, and her breath tickled him.  "Yeah, it—uhhh…"  Kaito could feel a burn flooding through his face as his body paid attention.  _*Really, really sensitive.  Not that I mind, but--*  He sat up a little straighter, and Aoko suddenly jerked back as she realized that she had been sort of draped across his bare chest.  Her own cheeks flared, but the boy beside her noted with interest that she didn't pull back __that far._

There was a small, slightly embarrassed silence; it ended when Kaito sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing at his head.  "I," he announced, "have had _*enough*_ for tonight—enough weirdness, enough stress, enough excitement, enough near heart-attacks.  I've hit my limits and if anything else happens I'm gonna lose it, I swear.  I think my brain just seized up."  He cracked an eye open, looking balefully at the girl.  "You?"

She slumped a bit, rubbing at her eyes with her palms.  "Uh huh.  We both need sleep, and I guess we can figure out what happened in the morning….. um, should we bandage you again, though?  Just in case?"

In the end they decided between them that a light bandage on Kaito's shoulder wasn't a bad idea; the new muscle beneath the skin was tender enough that any pressure was painful.  As she tore the last strip of tape from the dispenser, Aoko jerked slightly.  "Ow!"

Kaito had been sitting very still and with his eyes closed, quite conscious (and trying not to be SELF-conscious about it) of how warm Aoko's hands were again now that they were no longer cold with shock; they really felt awfully nice, in a hormonal sort of way…..  At her exclamation, though, he regretfully opened his eyes.  "Now what?  Oh—"  She had caught her finger on the little serrated metal strip at the tape-dispenser's end, the bit that you used to tear the tape; a single drop of blood beaded forth and ran down her hand as she pulled back in irritation—

-- and then both their jaws dropped…

_*Oh **MAN…..***_

…as they watched the tiny red cut _close up before their eyes, _sealing seamlessly shut.

Silence, except for two hearts beating rather erratically.  

_*Eeep.  Aoko too.*_  Kaito's mind seemed to be swimming around in little, pointless circles as this last shock hit home with all the force of the Tokyo Tower falling onto his head.  He swallowed hard again.  "Oooooookay, that's IT for the night, ladies and gentlemen; no encores, please.  This show is CLOSED."  Kaito simply fell over backwards where he sat, legs dangling off the side of the bed and hair in his eyes.  Beside him Aoko kept staring at her finger as if expecting it to turn into something vicious.  

Eyes distinctly glassy, she said in an oddly polite little voice:  "Kaito?  Did I— did **_*I* _**just…?"

"Uh huh; you sure did.  What'd it feel like?"

"………… it tingled."  She was still staring.

"'Tingled.'  Fine."   Kaito's voice was suddenly heavy and blurred with fatigue.  "I have no idea why ANY of this is happening, I'm not going to think about it, my brain has just gone on *strike* for the next few hours and **_I….._** am now going to sleep."  And with that the young thief dragged his pillow from beneath his head and placed it firmly over his face, shutting out the world.  "Good night….."  His voice was muffled but understandable and Aoko simply nodded, still looking blankly at her healed digit as she stood up and sort of zombie-walked towards the door.

"Right….. me too.  Um, good night, Kaito—see you in the morning."  The door closed behind her.

Kaito groaned softly beneath his pillow; his mind refused to make _any sense of what had just happened, other than effecting a sort of squeaking noise every time he tried to think.  No good.  Sleep, that was what was needed.  Sleep was good; sleep was wonderful.  You didn't have to think when you were asleep.  He reached over blindly and turned off his lamp, dragging himself beneath the covers and pulling the sheet over his head, pillow and all._

_*Maybe if I hide under here it'll all go away for a while…..  I can handle Nakamori and his goon squad, assassins in black, robots, stupid British detectives with tweed fetishes and even the Shrimp, but I can NOT handle any more of this tonight.  Today.  Whatever.  I have had it.*_

As unconsciousness pulled him down into its depths with welcome, gratifying speed, the magician's last bleary thought was that at least he hadn't had to explain the note….. well, not _yet,_ anyway…..

*******************************************************************************************************

In the guest-room bed  Nakamori Aoko lay with all the lights burning, staring silent and troubled at her unmarked finger until sleep swallowed her up at last like a great, black mouth.

*******************************************************************************************************

"aaaaaaaaaAAACHOO!!!  **sniffle**…"  A tousled head  established itself among the tangled blankets of the Yoshida's couch.  Rita Saunders rubbed her bleary eyes with one hand and then her forehead; God, but she hated colds.

_*Bleah.  My nose is running like a faucet…..  What time is it, anyway?  Ayumi ought to be up--*  _ Still half-submerged in the covers the American student listened for sounds of Ayumi-activity, but all was quiet.  No TV noises, no sounds of refrigerator-rummaging, none of the usual clatter that came with an eight-year-old's morning routine.  Now slightly worried, Rita frowned; the little girl hadn't caught her cold, had she?  Maybe she had better check…

Groaning, the young woman managed to drag herself out from her comfortable nest.  She yawned widely, scratching at an insect-bite on one wrist and stumbled down the hall to check on her charge.

The child was sleeping deeply; a gentle hand laid against her forehead felt no fever.  Maybe she was just worn out—  _*I'll just let her sleep as long as she needs to.  If she IS getting a cold, that might fend it off.  And if she acts sick when she gets up, we are NOT going to the park to play Frisbee like I said we would, no matter what.  Her mom'll be on my case if I let her play outside while she's sick—and I wouldn't do that to Ayumi anyway.*_  Rita liked the gradeschooler quite a lot; the little girl reminded her of her own little sister at that age, all sparks and vinegar.  She scratched at her light brown hair, making it stand on end as she wandered back towards the kitchen; the counter clock said that it was a little past eight. _*Oh well… I can make a bite of breakfast and get last night's dishes done while she snoozes.*_

There was a small radio by the microwave; Rita turned it to the local American music station to listen while she fixed toast and a couple of eggs.  It wasn't that she disliked Japanese music—she was a fairly rabid J-pop fan, actually, since she and her family had been in the country since she was twelve—but it was nice to hear things in English now and then, so long as they weren't Country/Western.  Keeping the volume level low, she began rummaging around the counter and shelves as lyrics from a vaguely familiar 80's band broke the morning silence:

_     The days grow shorter and the nights are getting long—_

_     Seems like we're running out of time….._

_     Every day it seems much harder telling right from wrong_

_     --you have to read between the lines._

Rita kun knotted her bathrobe-tie a little tighter, pulling out a butter-knife.  _*--Where's the bread?  Oh, right, pantry…..  Mmm; cool music this morning, even if it's sort of ancient…..*_  Sort of ominous-sounding, but hey, all those prehistoric Big Hair bands had been like that, hadn't they?  Dramatic to a fault.

_     Keep up your courage, keep up your faith, baby—_

_     You can make another day….._

_     Make it worth the price we pay….._

Two slices of toast and a few rather runny yolks later the young woman swallowed the last of her coffee, looked resignedly at the small collection of dirty dishes in the sink and shrugged; they weren't going to do themselves, so…..  She scuffled on a pair of old dishwashing gloves and went to work.  In the meantime, the radio sang along:

_     The Good Book says it's better to give than to receive;_

_     I do my best to do my part._

_     Nothing in my pocket and there's nothing up my sleeve—_

_     I keep my magic in my heart._

_     Don't get discouraged, don't be afraid_

_     You know I'm counting on you;_

_     You know what you've got to do…_

There wasn't much to do, not really—a few bowls, some glasses, a larger number of cups than she'd expect; nothing worth loading the dishwasher up with, that was for sure.  As she up-ended a red HelloKitty mug, though, something dropped from the sticky dregs to land with a rattle in the sink—

Oh; another one of Ayumi's juggling-stones…..  They were showing up all over the place lately as the child got better at her hobby.  With soapy plastic-gloved fingers Rita held the almond-sized stone up to the light curiously; this was one of the nicer ones, utterly crystal-clear and as shiny as a piece of ice—in fact, ice was what it looked like.  

_*Hmmm—pretty little thing; quartz?  Wonder where she got it?  Oh well, in with the others it goes…..*_  Aiming carefully, the young American lobbed it across the kitchen into a cracked green-tea cup on the lowest counter that Ayumi had claimed as her own for storing 'things'; little kids were real packrats sometimes and the gradeschooler was no exception.  _*There.  I'll make sure she knows where it is when she wakes up.*_

The last chorus of the song (they were playing the extended dance mixes this morning, which was kind of nice) made a quiet, rhythmic backdrop for Rita to dry the freshly-washed dishes to.  _*Nice backbeat and base there—good vocals too.  What was the name of that group—'Trump' or something?  They're probably all old and bald by now…*  She began stacking cups back on the shelf._

_     Fight the Good Fight every moment,_

_     Every minute, every day;_

_     Fight the Good Fight every moment,_

_     It's the only way._

As the last of the dishes went up she yawned and then sneezed once more; the American's sinuses were still so stuffed with cold that she felt like she had a bag over her head.  _*Still sleepy…..  Could take a nap 'til Ayumi gets up, I guess--*  She peeled off the rubber gloves and dropped them into the sink, rubbing her aching temples.  __*Still no sign of her waking up; better make the best of it and—*_

A wordless exclamation from down the hallway pulled the young woman back from any immanent nap-prospects; it sounded like her charge had finally woken up.  "So much for _that idea," she groused to herself.  "Ayumi-chan?  Ready for breakfast?"  She made her way down the hall and stuck her head around the doorway.  "Do you want cereal or something hot?  I can fix toast and eggs if you--  what's wrong?  Ayumi-chan?"_

The little girl was sitting up in bed with her hair sticking every which way, scowling in annoyance and dismay at a scrap of creased paper.  At Rita's question her eyes jerked wide open for a second and she quickly crumpled the offending object in her small fist.  "N-nothing, I—it's fine.  I just….. never mind.  I sort of missed something….."  She offered a smile to the young woman, obviously attempting to change the subject.

Rita was not to be dissuaded, cold or no cold.  "Are you _*sure?*_  Does this have anything to do with our going to the park later?"  She eyed the child curiously.  "If you don't feel good we can stay home and watch cartoons or something, you know…"

"Oh… noooo, I'm okay; I was just sorta hoping that—that a couple more of my friends could go too.  But I don't think they can….."  She looked a little downcast for a second more, then sighed and stuffed the wad of paper into her pajama pocket.  "I'm awfully hungry," she remarked as she climbed out of bed; "Can you make me some eggs and stuff, please?  AND can I have some cereal too?"  Without waiting for an answer she was out the door and down the hallway, still chattering away at a rapid clip about the proposed trip to the park.

Rita blinked once, wondering what she had just missed; _*???  She sure SOUNDS okay.  Oh well, whatever…*  With a final sneeze she followed her charge back towards the kitchen._

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

_**sluuuuuurp**_  Ayumi tilted her cereal bowl up and drank off the last of the milk; from behind a tissue Rita-kun rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and blew her nose.  "Ayumi-chan, that is (**sniffle**) NOT a polite way to eat your cereal, you know—"

The child frowned.  "But if I just throw it away it's wasteful," she pointed out, wiping her chin with a paper napkin.  "And besides, it's _good.  Look, the marshmallows made it all sort of purpley-pink—"_

Her American friend chuckled.  "So I see…" she remarked, eyeing the stain around the little girl's mouth; rather sheepishly Ayumi wiped it away as well.  "You'd better scoot and get washed up and dressed; didn't you say your friends were supposed to meet us here at ten?  It's… twenty 'til ten already, so…"  She reached for another tissue.

"EEP!  Okay!"  With that, the gradeschooler was out of her chair and down the hall before her spoon had finished rattling in her bowl.  Behind her, Rita-kun blew her nose for the umpteenth time that morning and followed her down the hall, muttering something about a shower.

Back in her room, the girl pulled on a weekend sort of outfit of shorts and a t-shirt, stuffing her favorite deck of cards into one pocket and the morning's note into the other.  Before it went in, though, she carefully unwadded it and read it through one more time regretfully:  

_OHAYO, AYUMI-CHAN—  SORRY WE FELL ASLEEP ON YOU LIKE THAT; ARIGATO FOR HIDING US SO CLEVERLY!  WE'RE GOING TO GO GET A LITTLE REST AND TAKE CARE OF A FEW THINGS, BUT DON'T WORRY—I'LL MEET YOU AT THE USUAL TIME AND PLACE, OKAY?  WE CAN TALK SOME MORE THEN.  ABAYO….. _

There was no signature, but three tiny little sketches followed the words—a squiggle that looked vaguely like a mop, a cat paw-print and what was unmistakably a playing-card.  Ayumi sighed in frustration; if only she hadn't fallen asleep too!  "I hope Hei-san is feeling better," she whispered dolefully to the note as she smoothed it out and folded it carefully prior to tucking it away; "I wonder if Aoko-san kissed him again?"  The memory of his astonished face made her giggle and feel rather smug inside; if it hadn't been for _HER, after all, Aoko-san wouldn't have known where Hei-san was and __then she wouldn't have been able to kiss him in the *first* place._

Ayumi felt that they rather owed her a "Thank you" or two, all things considered.

She stuck her tongue out at herself in the mirror as she brushed her dark hair and adjusted her usual hairband.  The child fingered her hair thoughtfully; her mom had always had it cut shortish for her, but she had really liked how Aoko-san's hair was all over her shoulders the night before.  Maybe she should let it grow?  She wasn't a baby anymore, and if she wanted she could change how she looked—

"OW!"  A sudden, sharp little pain in her right instep made the gradeschooler jump as she shifted sideways to view her profile.  Hopping, she grabbed at her bare foot and peered down; there was something small and shiny caught there, like broken bottle-glass…  _*Oh--!  I know what THIS is… and it's all over the floor.*  Ayumi carefully tugged the offending scrap of— what WAS it, anyway?  It was supposed to be part of a jewel, but it was shaped so funny….._

She spent a hurried minute or so crawling around on her floor, gathering up little, glinting pieces of what looked remarkably like dark green glass.  They were everywhere; the Pandora Gem had shattered like an almond-shell beneath a hammer, and that was what it resembled when you really _looked_ at it.  Ayumi stared down at the scant little pile of broken bits, turning over the largest one with a fingertip; no longer than her pinky-finger, it was most of half of the stone, but…

… but it was _hollow,_ and quite thin.  It really DID look like an almond-shell, one made of very dark green glass.  Puzzled, she tucked it into her pocket for later consideration and poured the rest of the bits into the corner of her sock-drawer.  They'd be safe there.

A loud _***BZZZZZZZTT!!***_announced the arrival of the other kids downstairs; hurriedly scooping up a pair of socks and slamming the drawer shut, Ayumi hopped down the hall on one leg as she attempted to put them on AND beat Rita-kun to the intercom before somebody (Genta-kun, probably) wore the button out.  As she caught her balance, it occurred to her that she was going to have to keep awfully close-mouthed about Hei-san's secret around Conan—she had promised, after all.  And Conan-kun didn't *HAVE* to know that she had had Kaitou Kid as a visitor for the past few days, did he?  She had managed to keep him hidden while they had watched movies, after all.

It promised to be an interesting day…..

Ayumi paused for a microsecond in her hopping to scoop up a handful of her juggling-stones on the way past the kitchen shelves; she could use them to practice in the park later on.  Idly scratching at the place on her wrist where Spot-chan had scratched her the night before (it itched), the little girl hit the intercom-button and greeted her friends, never once noticing that not even the faintest, palest trace of the scratch remained to be seen on her unmarred skin.

*******************************************************************************************************

Several kilometers away towards the center of the city and an hour or so earlier…..

….. it had been time for what Edogawa Conan, once Kudo Shinichi, had dubbed the _'Cooking With Rin' Show.  He had also (in the privacy of his own mind, fortunately) dubbed it the _Comedy of Errors_ after an evening spent watching a really badly-done version of one of Shakespeare's plays at his and Rin's former high School; Sonoko had, of course, gotten the Courtesan's part._

Right now Rin was being patient; shaking her head, she was pointing out something from a cookbook to her current student, who tapped her teeth irritably with one manicured nail-tip.  At her raised and disbelieving eyebrow, the little girl/young woman shook her head even more firmly.  "Mom, just trust me on this, please:  you can _TOO burn boiled eggs.  Remember what happened last week with the smoked fish?  The recipe book was right then too, wasn't it?"_

Kisaki Eri looked mulish.  "But—"

Her daughter sighed.  "Look, if you just remember to take the pot off the burner when the timer buzzes you'll be fine, right?   Just pay attention and you won't have half the mess to clean up that you usually do…"

"Not to mention the smoke or the fire-extinguisher foam either," put in Conan helpfully from where he was watching in the doorway, leaning with his arms crossed against the jamb.  Eri shot him a dirty look as only a lawyer can.

"ShinEEEEEchi….." muttered Rin warningly from the side of her mouth, her pony-tail switching like that of a real horse; the former Mouri Ran had her long hair tied back (to keep it from catching fire, considering her pupil's level of skill) and was wearing an oversized apron from her previous, taller life; it hung nearly to her ankles.  "You're not helping."

He rolled his eyes, fighting down a grin; she was cute when she was annoyed.  "I know, I know, but I'm *hungry.*  Can't I just—"  The boy made as if to reach past them both for a box of cookies sitting on a shelf; Rin smacked the back of his hand with a spoon and a distinctly Ran-neechan look, scowling ferociously while her mother watched in bemusement.  "Ow!  C'mon Ran, it's getting late; we're supposed to meet everybody at Ayumi's at ten—"  They had barely made it back from Professor Agasa's in time to keep Eri-san from burning the place down with her boiled-over version of 'breakfast.'  Rin had taken immediate command, banishing the household's two males from the kitchen and ordering her mother around with a severity that would have done justice to a woman a half-dozen times her apparent age.

And now she raised an eyebrow, starting to look like she was boiling over herself.  "Shinichi, would you rather wait a few minutes or eat what Mom cooked already?"  Rin gestured with her spoon at the pot of overcooked rice and the suspiciously-mottled eggs that sat forlornly on the counter, awaiting their final fate in the trash.  The boy sighed and shook his head regretfully.  "Fine, then; you can wait like the rest of us.  Why don't you go catch the news or something?"

Grumbling, the former teenager shuffled reluctantly around the corner, casting a longing look over his shoulder at the kitchen as he went.  _*'Watch the news,' huh?  Not with Ojisan glued to the Sunday morning horserace; guess I could log onto the net and read the headlines there—*_  The computer was already up and running, due to Eri's habit of checking her email while she was still groggy and barely awake; it was sort of her version of Morning Coffee.

Small, swift fingers clicked their way across the keyboard as the boy's negligible weight made the chair squeak slightly.  _*Mmmm… got a rash of afterhours store break-ins in the main downtown area, three carjackings in the outskirts—they'd better look into gang initiations for those—and a couple of assault-and-batteries in the shopping district.  Vehicle theft rates are up a bit; wonder if that's due to competition between theft rings or just some new area of opportunity? Let's see what else is showing up…..*  He scrolled through a few pages, absentmindedly shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose as they slid down.  __*Here we go—more speculations regarding the latest Kaitou Kid break-in.  Boring; just the usual bunch of rehashed old case info, rumors and speculation.*  He grinned a small, cocky smile to himself as his fingers flew across the keys.  __*I could tell them a few things, couldn't I?*_

_*And speaking of Kid, I wonder what he thought of my little note last night?*_  The grin broadened just a bit.__

The news was disappointingly free from murders this morning (well, disappointing if you were Kudo Shinichi, anyway); the police seemed to have everything well in hand.  There _WAS one little Kid-related tidbit of a rumor that Inspector Nakamori Ginzo had gone into 'seclusion' due to a recent attempt on his life, but you never knew how much of that sort of thing was just heresay….. unless, of course, you had been privy to the little discussion that he and Rin had heard the night before._

_*What was it he said?*_  The conversation ran through his mind as he clicked over to the World News section, reading it with only half of his attention.  _*"_ If I hadn't called you, your dad would've gone into Police HQ this morning and gotten himself shot or blown up"….."Those bastards in black are gunning for him, Aoko, just like they're gunning for me"….."and if I hadn't called, he'd have died and I couldn't let that happen, not to you or to anyone."  He sounded pretty damned sincere for somebody who Nakamori's been trying to catch since his first heist.  What else was it he said?  Oh, right-- "They've killed enough fathers."*__

_*I… wonder what *I* would have done, if that had happened to MY dad?*_

The rapid patter of mouse-clicks faltered, slowed and stopped as his thoughts turned inwards, a slight frown of concentration finding its way to his face.  _*Kuroba Kaito, what kind of person *are* you, really?  So far your motives have been anything but clear; I know you're looking for revenge for your father's death, but there's more here than that…..*_

His thoughts ran back to their conversation in the park; in his mind's eye he stared up from ground-level at the damp figure high (but not as high as Kid would have liked) above him in the branches and listened once again_:  * "You want to know the main reason why I do what I do?  It's not because they took my dad away from me…It's not because one day almost ten years ago a little boy came home from school and found out he'd never see his father again; it's not even because a good man died—and he WAS a good man, no matter what he did for a living….. Revenge? Well, maybe that's why I started out doing what I do, but now….. the bastards that began this whole thing… if I let them get away with what they've done, I'm no better than they are. My father wasn't their only victim. And if you know anything at all about me, you know I don't let people get hurt if I can help it…  I've got my standards too." *_

He shivered slightly despite the warmth of the Mouri apartment and the brilliance of the sunlight pouring in the windows; _* "…the bastards that began this whole thing…"  If I'm going to be fair, I've got to remember that I'm not the only person who's suffered because of the Black Organization.  I've got to remember that…*_ -- and he glanced longingly at the phone beside the computer-- _*…no matter how much I'd love to turn Kuroba in.  All my instincts are yelling 'get him!', but there's a much bigger picture to consider here first—Justice, not merely Just Desserts.  Even if he IS a major pain in the ass.*_

The young man inside the child's body let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan, staring abstractedly at the screen before him; sometimes it was pure hell, being fair.  _*But that,* he thought wryly, _*is the difference between me and the bad guys; and come to think of it, it's the basic difference between Kid—Kuroba—and the bad guys too; he knows who ***I* am as well, and he could have sold me up the river without a second thought.  But he didn't.***__

_*Dammit, Kid, we need to TALK!*_

"Shinichi?  Breakfast—"  Abruptly he became aware that the rather smoky atmosphere had been replaced by more appetizing scents.  His stomach growled as he slid from his chair to land on the floor with a light _thump! prior to hurrying towards the kitchen._

_*Finally.  Hey—looks like Eri-san's actually produced something edible!*_  It was indeed Kisaki Eri who, a disheveled strand of hair falling into her eyes, placed the platter of only-slightly-burned bacon and cutlets on the table; Rin hovered behind her with a large bowl of rice in her hands, watching with satisfaction.  _*About time… but I'll believe it when I taste it.  That beef stew of hers looks pretty innocuous too, but all it takes is one bite and…*_  He shuddered internally; where Ran's mother had gotten the idea that copious amounts of wasabi and Chinese Five Spice Powder actually _*complimented* beef stew was a mystery beyond his powers to solve._

_*Urrrgh; never again.  Thought I was going to die after I ate that… that… well, you couldn't call it FOOD.  Being clubbed over the head by Gin or Vodka would've been a mercy at that point.*_

Breakfast wasn't bad, if not up to Mouri Ran's standards; but Mouri Ran was currently having difficulties reaching the kitchen supplies as well as the top of the stove, and you could only do so much while standing on a stool.  Eri-san was just going to have to learn to manage, that was all—and everybody else was just going to have to survive the process.  As he stared resentfully up at Mouri Kogoro (whose greater reach had just enabled him to snitch the last piece of bacon from beneath Shinichi's reaching chopsticks) the boy wondered silently if Kaitou Kid had to do his own cooking.

_*Heh; he probably lives off stolen ramen packages or some such.  Sounds almost appealing until you consider what happened the last time I tried to make ramen...*_  He had never actually thought that you could set anything on fire in a microwave, but apparently he had been wrong.   _THAT had resulted in Mouri temporarily forgetting just who he actually _was_ and bopping him on the head again, which had almost ended up with Ojisan getting a Conan-sized tennis-shoe in a place that—well, would have definitely stimulated his memory.  Hopefully, anyway.  It hadn't quite come to that, but it had been close…_

"Ran?  Uh, Rin?"  Speak of the devil—Mouri was talking now, his mouth full; he took a gulp of his tea.  "What're you doing today?  Can you pick up my suits down at the cleaner's?  Some of your mom's too—"  He dug in one pocket for his wallet, still chewing; several coins fell out and bounced on the floor beside him but he ignored them.

Rin shrugged, swallowing before she spoke.  "Okay; we're just going to the park today.  That American girl that's taking care of Ayumi is meeting some friends of hers there and we're going to play Frisbee for a little while.  We can stop by the cleaner's on the way home… but it'll cost you some ice-cream money."  Her father looked wounded (his cheapskate side wasn't as bad as it had been, but it wasn't dead yet) but grudgingly added a little more to the money he was counting out.  Across the table Eri-san chuckled under her breath and he sent her a glare.

"You _play_ too much," he grumbled.  "I know you're, uh, not like you _*used_*_ to be, but—dammit, Ran, your mom made me _vacuum _yesterday.  I'm a __detective, not a housekeeper, and—"  He scowled like a thundercloud as Eri chuckled again.  His glare switched over to the boy beside his daughter as Mouri Kogoro muttered "This is all YOUR fault!" just like clockwork; everyone at the table had expected it._

His target merely shrugged the comment off.  He had gotten over a lot of his guilt in the past months by watching Ran relax into her new life as Rin; she had taken to it with much greater ease and much less frustration than he had, almost embracing her second childhood.  Sometimes Shinichi wondered why—had it been that hard, being the person she was?  Maybe; taking care of her father as well as his Conan-self had been quite a burden, and when you added in schoolwork and impending adulthood and the worry of just where the hell one Kudo Shinichi had vanished to… maybe she _*was* happier like this.  Bizarre thought, but possible._

_*As long as she's happy with it, I can handle him blaming me.  I still haven't given up on Ai finding us a cure, but… being Conan's not so bad anymore.  Not great, but not so bad.  Not having to keep my damned secret like I did all that time makes one huge hell of a world of difference.*_

Rin was answering her father now, ignoring his last accusation.  "Well, what am I _supposed to be doing?" she asked practically, munching on a piece of toast.  "I look like a little girl; if I want to keep myself and Shinichi—AND you both, by the way—safe and unsuspicious-looking, I have to *act* like a little girl too."  She reached for a second piece, scattering crumbs, and smiled up at her father mischievously.  "Besides, didn't Captain Megure compliment you on what a bright little niece you had the other day?  He said I must take after the Tokyo branch of the family…"  Shinichi bit back a grin as he noticed how Ran had cleverly omitted Megure-san's quick glance towards Eri during the comment.  Mouri, on the other hand, subsided with a slightly mollified grunt._

"Mom, did you need me to pick up anything else while we're out?  And what are YOU two doing today?"  She wiped her hands on her napkin and slid down from her chair, gathering plates as she went; Shinichi stopped dawdling over his empty plate and hastily hopped down to help her.

Kisaki Eri glanced a little sideways at her husband; humor gleamed in the sharp eyes behind the glasses, making the older woman look remarkably like her small daughter for a second.  "As a matter of fact, your father and I have been invited to spend the day out with some old friends of mine from college—Ran, do you remember the Hamehotos?"  One corner of her lips twitched before she hid her smile behind her cup.

The little girl beside her raised one eyebrow in a most unchildlike look of dawning understanding.  "The ones with the big estate? And the golf course?  And doesn't Hamehoto-san like to play Mah Jong? "  She looked pointedly at her father, who fidgeted uncomfortably.  "Right, _*those*_ Hamehotos…..  Have fun, then….."

Mouri cleared his throat uneasily, flushing.  "Rmmph.  Errr, yes.  We'll be back a little late, then—  Come on, Eri, we don't want to be late!"  The detective pushed away from the table and more or less fled the room as his co-breakfasters tried not to laugh too obviously. 

A little later the two shorter members of the Mouri household were pelting out the door and down the stairs in a rush; they had just enough time to make it to Ayumi's if they hurried.  "Skateboard?"  Rin glanced at her companion inquiringly, tucking an errant strand behind one ear.  The girl was wearing one of her favorite outfits today, a shorts-and-top combo in red with touches of white; it brought out highlights in her tied-back hair and made the pink of her little-girl face seem even brighter.  "If we're in a hurry—"

He chuckled.  "Speed demon," he teased, then grew a little more serious.  "But if you don't mind, no—I don't want to do anything to call attention to either of us today, okay?"  He settled the skateboard more securely in his backpack, glancing around.  It had been easy to feel fairly secure up in the Mouri's apartment, but down here on the sidewalk…..

Rin eyed him thoughtfully; he could nearly see the wheels turning inside her head.  "You're still worried about… what we heard last night, aren't you?  That's why you're so set on hanging around Ayumi today:  you want to watch out for her."

He nodded grimly, watching the traffic as they walked.  When he glanced back at her Conan's eyes (and they _*were*_ 'Conan's' out there, not 'Shinichi's') held a wariness and tightness that had been missing for the last few months… ever since he had stopped being alone in his small, time-warped world.  "I—just don't want to take any chances," he said softly, looking away again.  "If they're watching him, they might be watching US.  And if they killed his father….."

Rin's forehead creased; her small, heart-shaped face looked troubled as she bit her lip.  "Um,  Shin—I mean Conan-kun?  I've been thinking about that…..  Do you remember—when you talked to him in the park, did he say WHERE his father was killed?"

The boy frowned; he shoved his hands deep in his pockets as he ran through the conversation again.  "No….. just that they had killed him.  He mentioned coming home from school and finding out that his dad had died, so it had to be daytime…  Why?"

She looked even more troubled; "Because… if his dad was killed while he was being the original Kaitou Kid, then that's one thing; but if he was killed while he was—was just being his everyday self, whatever that was, then….."

Conan stopped walking.

"…..then they _knew who he was._  And **_THAT_** means they probably know who the most likely person to be the _new_ Kaitou Kid is too."  He stared at her, horrified; she nodded grimly.

"DAMMIT!" the boy hissed out, making a grandmotherly type passing by on the sidewalk to his left cluck her tongue at him and look offended; he paid her no attention whatsoever, but grabbed Rin's hand and set off towards Ayumi's at a bone-jarring pace.  "I don't know whether we should keep the hell *away* from the idiot or try to contact him as soon as possible!"  His fingers tightened on hers until she wiggled them in protest—and then grabbed at his hand when he would have pulled away.  "Uh, sorry.  It's just—"

"I know, I know, you're worried; me too, but panicking won't get us anywhere."  She sighed; "Look, Conan-kun?  Let's just take it a bit at a time, okay?  Today we're going to watch over Ayumi-kun, ne?  We both know Kid's not going anywhere right now, not since he's hurt; and when we get back…" she smiled at him, a faint smile but a real one; "When we get back, we can see if there's a Kuroba listed in the phone book, can't we?"

He blinked.

"Well, why not?  If there is… or… do you think they'd have the phone-lines tapped?"  Rin glanced up at the overhead power-lines as if she could see messages in the wires.

Conan ground his teeth in frustration.  "It's more than possible, he replied grimly.  "We may have to wait 'til Friday to talk to him—at least we *know* one way of contacting him." He gave her a Shinichi-ish little smile back, all edges and intelligence.  "Considering the note we left, HE may try to contact US first.  Who knows?"

"True."

They walked on a bit further at a slower pace, still hand-in-hand; now and then a passing adult would glance at them and smile over their preoccupied young faces and serious expressions, as well as the way that they held onto each other so closely.  After a few minutes of silence, Conan's quiet voice broke the silence:  "Ran"?

Not 'Rin', but 'Ran'.  The girl glanced at him.  "Hm?"

His voice was very quiet.  "Do… you remember, when the Twin Towers building caught fire and you tied that fire hose to you, grabbed me up and jumped?  When you saved our lives?"

"…yes… why?"

The boy turned to stare back out at the busy streets again, his face in profile; the midmorning sun showed the bones of his face clearly, defining them and returning his countenance ever so slightly to what it had once been (and would one day be again).  "Dealing with anything that involves those Black Organization monsters… it's—"  He paused a second, trying to find the words.  "That's what this is beginning to feel like— like jumping off of a high place, not knowing if what you're doing will save your life or kill you.  What are we doing, getting mixed up in Kid's problems?  I mean, why the hell are we even bothering to _WARN_ this guy?  He's a criminal!  He's wanted internationally, he's involved an innocent kid in his stupid schemes, he's—"

"—he's a _*human being*_ who's gotten himself into deep water, Shinichi, and you know it inside of you."  Mouri Ran's voice was firmly _*there* in Himitsu Rin's little-girl tones, there was no mistaking that.  "No matter what he's done, I don't think he's a killer—and he doesn't deserve what will happen to him if THEY get hold of him, criminal or not.  Does he?"_

"…..No."

"Mmmhmmm; I didn't think so.  And neither do you, or you wouldn't be so worried."

The rest of the walk to Ayumi's was spent in troubled silence, but neither let go of the other's hand until they had to.

*******************************************************************************************************

"Mmmmphghble…..??"  A tousled dark head slowly emerged from beneath tumbled sheets.

_*…..???..... something… smells good…..*_  Blearily he opened his eyes.

_*OWWW; who turned up the @#$%! lights?*_

Kaito moaned faintly and submerged again beneath the warm, wonderful, comfortable, sunshine-blocking covers of his bed; the world was way, WAY too bright for him just then…..  _*meeeeeeeeghh; don' wanna get up yet, mom…..*  Everything receded back into a lovely, dark little coil of drowsing and nonthought, until something nudged at his senses again with a gentle, insistent elbow._

_*…mmph?*_  His stomach growled.  _*Rrrgh?  Food?*_   Without the aid of conscious thought one hand tugged the blanket down just enough that his nose could get a better sniff.  _*Oooooo… food.  Starving!*_  As the caveman in the young magician's brain emerged from the depths and took charge, he yawned cavernously and crawled out sluggishly from beneath the covers.

_*RRRRGHH… sunlight's too bright…..*_  And the floor was awfully cold under his bare feet, too.  But that wonderful, wonderful smell grabbed Kaito by the throat (well, the nose, actually) and dragged him forward as if by a leash.  His mind had trudged up the scale of evolution to roughly Cro-Magnon level by the time he finished in the bathroom and made it to the stairs, rubbing his eyes against the overly-brilliant morning; as he stumbled down to ground-floor level, _something kept nudging the faint remnants of intelligence still slumbering deep in his brain._

_*Uhhhhh… something I'm forgetting….. never mind, food first….. starving to death…..think later…..*_

Another huge yawn made him squint his eyes even harder as he wandered towards the kitchen, one hand hitching up his pants while the other scrabbled in his hair; he scratched at his shoulder irritably—*damned thing's itching like crazy this morning*-- and blinked at the sight of Nakamori Aoko, devouring an enormous plate of scrambled eggs and fried ham in a decidedly businesslike fashion.

_*Right—Aoko, yeah.  Must be what I forgot.  Food?*_  As if she had read his mind she glanced up at him, chewing, and pointed with her chopsticks towards the stove; a plate lay there with a napkin covering it.  _*Aoko, I love you.  FOOD!*_

Conversation was both impossible and unnecessary for the next little while, as dishes clattered and stomachs were filled; at last Kaito pushed away from the table with a sigh of contentment.  Aoko had graduated to sipping her tea; belatedly it occurred to her host that she seemed awfully quiet this morning…..

He looked at her empty plate.  _*Man, she put away a major chunk of groceries, didn't she?  So did I.*  He was aware of her eyes resting on him from above the level of her cup as she raised it, and he scratched again rather self-consciously at the itchy places on his shoulder and side.  He wasn't wearing a shirt—the morning air felt good on his skin—and he felt just the smallest bit of heat rising in the vicinity of his cheekbones at her steady regard.  "What?" he asked jokingly to fill the silence; "Did I grow a second head or something overnight?"_

She sat down her cup, swirling the dregs a bit.  "No… you pulled off your bandages, though…"

_*Bandages?  …oh.  OH!*_  And THAT was when it hit him:  He wasn't hurting—and he had made it down the stairs on his own—and she was right, the itching wasn't from beneath tape and gauze—and (once more, with feeling) he WASN'T hurting… he just itched.

He… just _itched_.  No pain, no bleeding, nothing under his fingertips when he reached up wonderingly except the faint roughness and dimpling of scar-tissue, and mostly subcutaneous at that.  _*!!!*_

As his stomach lurched with sudden shock, he heard Aoko say almost idly, "I burned my palm cooking a little while ago; it was funny, watching it heal up—you could see the mark go from red to pink and back to normal without even making a blister."  She held up her unmarked hand as if asking a question in class and Kaito reached across involuntarily to take it, examining the healthy skin as the night's realizations flooded back.

_*That's right; we both healed like—like something out of a fantasy manga, like—I don't know.  What the hell's HAPPENED to us?!?*_  His own hands were shaking just a bit as he let go of Aoko's wrist and she reached back to clasp them tightly; her own shook a little as well.  "Kaito?  Stop panicking, okay?"  She gave him a slightly wobbly smile.  "I've already done enough of that for *both* of us this morning."

Her fingers were cool in his.  "Uhhh…."  The young magician tried to collect his scattered thoughts, slowly allowing the rush of adrenaline and terror to subside.  "Right."  He sighed, letting go and slumping down a little in his chair before he looked back up with a woebegone face.  "Aoko, I do NOT need stuff like this as soon as I wake up, not this early in the morning."

"It's past ten—and at least I made breakfast and let you *eat* it first, you know," she answered quite calmly for her.  One eyebrow went up as Kaito considered this before nodding.  He leaned back, swallowing the remainder of his tea in one huge gulp and marveling at the sheer lack of _pain as he held out his arm, flexing the fingers.  He had been using it ever since he got up and not even thought about it, not even once._

"Kaito?"  Aoko really WAS being awfully quiet, but there was an edge to her voice now.  "I've been thinking about… about why this has happened to us, whatever it is—and… do you ever remember healing like this before?  Anytime at all?"

"Noooo…"  Her friend scowled down at his empty cup, setting it soundlessly on the table.  "Hell, I got scratched on the ankle by that little monster of yours at your birthday party, and I can tell you that _*those* were still there the next day; had to put some stuff on 'em—"  He leaned over, rolling up one pants-leg to check; when he straightened up, Kaito's face was almost comically wide-eyed.  He looked at Aoko.  "Gone.  Not a trace left."  _

He twisted around a little then, peering at the back of his right bicep.  "And no bruises from whacking into that statue the other night during the shootout…"  He stared at his right palm.  "No scrapes on my hand from that rooftop…"  Now he tried to look over his shoulder at his upper back; "And… dammit, I can't see if that scrape's gone or not—Aoko, do I have a big scratch just below my shoulderblade?"  He craned his head a little further to the right, ducking below his own arm and trying to see—

Kaito became aware of a not-so-muffled snicker and looked up; Aoko had both her hands in front of her mouth, her eyes crinkled with laughter despite her nerves.  She pointed a slightly shaky finger at him; "You look—you look like s-somebody from a circus act—"

He blinked up at her from beneath his elbow and grinned.  "Well, now you know why your dad has had so much trouble catching me—'Flexible' is my middle name."  Straightening up, the young thief shook his head and peered again at his scarred shoulder.

She fought down another giggle and mock-glared back.  "And here I always thought it would be something like 'Bakabaka'…..  Anyway, back to the subject.  You're _*SURE* nothing like this ever happened before?  Ever, in any way at __all?"_

Her friend was examining the back of his right shoulderblade now with the aid of the teapot-lid, using the shiny steel as a mirror; he tilted it sideways, trying to get a better view.  "Nope.  Can't say I'm unhappy about it—I mean, if something weird had to happen, healing up in record time a pretty sweet deal—but it'd be nice to know the whys and wherefores, wouldn't it?  Even us Phantom Thieves don't generally have super powers like…..  **_urk!!"_**

He had suddenly frozen in place, a blank expression on his face that slowly edged over into dawning horror.  The Inspector's daughter looked at him fearfully, all humor draining away.  "Kaito?  Kaito, you've thought of something, haven't you?  What is it?"

Kuroba Kaito tossed the teapot lid absentmindedly towards the teapot (where it landed with unerring precision, spinning into place with a tinny clatter); his eyes sought hers, full of alarm.  "Aoko, _*WHAT* have we both handled in the last day or so that had a reputation of, of weird stuff—wild abilities and powers and all that sort of crap?"_

She hesitated, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table and her chin on her palms; the young woman's dark hair fell around her face like a curtain.  "The gem—the Pandora Gem, you called it…  You said there were stories about it, that it was supposed to—"

He interrupted her, standing up abruptly; his chair tipped over backwards and would have fallen if he hadn't made a quick grab at it.  "—to make you immortal, invincible, all that legendary bullshit.  _Right."  He stared down at her, his hands fisted and a slightly panicky look in his eyes.  "I don't buy the immortality bit—I bet if I got hit by a freight-train right now I'd be as dead as the next guy, but… do you think…??  I mean, could the Gem have—"_

**_**BING-BONG**_**

**_**BING-BONG**_**

They both nearly jumped out of their skins with simultaneous squeaks before their brains identified the sounds as the doorbell.  Eyes bugging out, Kaito was beginning to go into Full-Blown Panic Mode when it occurred to him that any bad guys would probably *not* ring the doorbell, and if it were the police they'd be announcing their presence with loudspeakers, helicopters overhead and Nakamori's screams of fury.

Aoko seemed to have reached the same conclusion; "You're supposed to be _sick, you baka, so go __*be* sick!  Here!!"  She threw him the bath-robe he had left over the chair-back the day before; Kaito shrugged into it at warp-speed and dove for the couch in the main room, the one he always dozed on when he was ill.  Aoko was already heading through the smaller outer room for the door, calling out "Be with you in a minute!" as she went._

_*Crap, crap, crap; who the hell IS it?  If it's the Shrimp, I'm gonna stuff him into a trashcan head-first and take the next train to __Osaka__—it's nice and quiet in __Osaka__.  __Osaka__ sounds like a GREAT place to visit this time of year.*_

**_**BING-BONG**_** **_**BING-BONG**_** **__**

"COMING!" sang out Aoko, casting a worried glance at Kaito over her shoulder; he was busy arranging things to give the appearance of illness—a scattering of  wadded-up tissues across the quilt he had thrown over himself, a couple of books on the floor beside the couch, a bottle of aspirin hurriedly grabbed from a drawer and tossed onto the nearest end-table—

He gave her a nod, then sank down beneath the quilt and thought hard about being sick.  _*Okay, let's see, nausea and a bit of fever, maybe a headache for verisimilitude.  Sounds doable.*_

Okay, she was at the door now and out of view; settling his face into a semblance of groggy illness, Kaito rumpled the covers a bit more and curled up, listening…..

The door opened.  There was a moment of shocked silence on Aoko's part, ending in a startled "Uhh--- O-Ohai…yo?"

The answer came easily in familiar, smooth tones with a strong accent that came from nowhere near Japan.  "Ohaiyo, Nakamori-kun; I've brought you your homework… and Kuroba-kun's too, of course." 

_*Oh shit.  Like I needed this…  If this is a joke, God, it's not funny.*_

He could hear Aoko's voice fighting for control as she answered, "Um, that's—that's awfully nice of you, Hakuba-kun; please, come in….."

Kaito groaned internally.  _*Oh well; at least I won't have to fake the nausea now.*_

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hakuba Saguru was a suspicious sort of person.  That is, he wasn't the kind of young man who _caused _people to become suspicious—no, he was the kind of young man who considered everybody _else_ to be suspicious.  Well, almost everybody.   In his opinion, it was the rare human being who wasn't guilty of *something.*

It wasn't so much that he was a dyed-in-the-wool cynic or anything (although he _was, of course__); it was just that his intellect was much stronger than his patience, which led to a rather dim view of the human race in general.  This was bolstered by a tendency towards clinical thought, a truly profound grasp of logic and (regrettably) what some might call a near-total lack of a sense of humor; add all of this together and you had one Hakuba Saguru, detective at large._

His half-British heritage and gaijin good looks made him a prime object of interest to his female classmates; he was well aware of this, and when he had stopped by the house belonging to Aoko's friend Keiko a smile or two had been enough to fluster the girl.  His suggestion that he take Keiko's notes and homework handouts over to Nakamori-kun had been well received—Keiko was an inveterate matchmaker and had been quite happy to hand everything over.  The *biggest* problem had simply been to get her not to come along _with him, but Hakuba had managed to dodge that issue and escape unaccompanied and relatively unscathed._

And now Nakamori Aoko was staring at him from the Kuroba house doorway, an astonished look on her rather pretty, pink-flushed face; her hair was in disarray and she was wearing a rather disreputable kitchen apron as well as a bathrobe and pajama set that looked to belong to someone slightly taller (at least five centimeters) and heavier-built (several kilos, definitely) than her; Kuroba's mother, perhaps?  It _*was* his house, after all….._

_Kuroba….._

Now THERE was a suspicious person.  Hakuba was virtually certain that his classmate was, in actuality, Kaitou Kid—but that little certainty wasn't enough for an arrest by the police, not nearly enough.  He had to be SURE, he had to actually capture him red-handed—nothing less would do to assuage the blows that Kid had made to his pride in the past.  Kid, Kuroba, one and the same; Hakuba Saguru was positive of it.

Hah; that and a hundred yen could get you a cup of coffee.

So his current plan was simply to keep his guard up, to stay aware and alert for any little mistakes the thief might make; sooner or later it would all come down to the inevitable failing of all criminal minds, complacency.  No matter how good Kuroba was (and as much as it rankled him Hakuba had to admit that Kuroba WAS good, the best by far that he had run across as yet), eventually he would slip up and history would reward his patience.

Sooner or later…..

Like _now,_ perhaps?

He had listened to with great interest to the radio transmissions during Friday night's museum heist, all the while fuming internally at Nakamori's refusal to allow his personal attendance.  He _had tried, but the stupid man had turned down his offer of help.  It always amazed the young detective that anyone so obviously __incompetent could have risen to the rank of Inspector; why, the man couldn't even tell a suspect's exact height and weight upon sighting them!  And he had had to call three times to even speak to Nakamori, which *really* was a bit too much._

The frantic, half out-of-breath announcement by some unknown police flunky that Kaitou Kid had taken a bullet or two during his escape had evoked a number of responses in Hakuba, some more unexpected than others.  There was, of course, a sense of righteous satisfaction in the thought that the thief should at last be paying the piper for all of the dances he had led; there was an edge of excitement thrilling along his nerves (finally, FINALLY there'd be something provable—it was rather hard to hide or explain away a bullet-wound, and surely the fool hadn't gotten himself killed, of course not).  

But there was also an odd, unnerving twinge somewhere in the region of his stomach that felt uncomfortably like… regret?  Alarm, perhaps?  Even worry?

Foolishness, of course.  Not that he wanted Kuroba dead—if he was dead, how could Hakuba catch him?

Hence the homework drop-off and the visit to the Kuroba residence, a place that he had certainly never expected to set foot in (except, possibly, during a post-arrest inspection or some such; he was virtually certain that the thief had to have some sort of lab or hideout or workroom in the building… and ohhh, how his pulse quickened at the thought of seeing it at last!).  But here he was.

_*The sacrifices one has to make… I suppose I can deal with Kuroba's tawdry little house in order to really see if he's injured or not; that policeman's transmission was pretty definite—he said that Kid certainly seemed to have been hit.*_  As he smiled into the girl's startled face he kept one hand tucked into his right pocket, fingering the items that would help seal the thief's doom.

_*Let's just get this show on the road, as Kuroba-kun would say, shall we?*_

And now he was smiling politely at Nakamori Aoko as he was ushered inside.  _*Hmph—not a bad place, I suppose; I've seen it enough times from the outside, certainly, as recently as the night of Aoko-kun's party.  I suppose it's well enough.*_  As he politely slipped out of his shoes and into a set of house-scuffs at the entrance, his attention was caught by a large portrait hanging on the wall nearby.

"Kuroba-kun's father, I suppose?" he said, one blonde eyebrow going up as he paused in front of the picture.  "The world-famous stage-magician and illusionist Kuroba Toichi…"  The man in the picture bore a striking resemblance to his son (though, Hakuba corrected himself conscientiously, it would actually be the other way around) right down to the shaggy hair and gleeful smile; doves fluttered about him and popped from the hat in his hands.

It did not escape the young detective's notice that the man was wearing a white suit rather than the more traditional magician's black tuxedo.  He scowled at the picture; it seemed to grin unrepentantly back.

"He died when Kaito was a kid; he was a really nice man, too…" said the girl behind his back, speaking quietly.  Of course Hakuba knew this detail; he knew everything available in public record about the Kuroba family, and quite a few things that were more difficult to find.

"Mmm.  Where IS Kuroba, for that matter?"  He glanced towards the entrance to the main room; he could hear a TV playing softly in the background and there was a corner of something that looked rather like a couch just visible through the doorway.  "I'll need to let him know what he's missed at school—oh, and I picked up something for him as well…"  He smiled to himself, a small, anticipatory smile.

The young woman in the bathrobe smoothed her hair back, looking puzzled.  "'Something FOR him'?  You and Kaito don't usually—I mean, well, most people wouldn't… consider you two to be friends or anything like that….."  There seemed to be some sort of wariness in her eyes, a dawning suspicion; surely the Inspector's daughter wasn't involved in Kuroba's sordid criminal activities?  Unthinkable; she was obviously just protecting her long-time friend.

"Ah, well—"  Hakuba shrugged, trying his best to look as generous as possible (although "generous" and "Kuroba" were two concepts that just did not mix well in the blonde detective's mind).  "It's just a trifle to amuse a sick classmate; if he isn't interested, I'm sure I can find someone else who can use it."

Nakamori-kun still looked a little doubtful, but she answered with a tentative smile and a murmur of "I'm sure he'll like it, whatever it is…" that Hakuba barely heard; his attention was on the faint rustling that he could hear from the other room.

"Ah, THERE he is; I'll just step in for a second—" and he slipped past the startled young woman into the room, heartbeat picking up in anticipation…..

_*Don't worry, Kuroba—this won't hurt a bit.  I'll make sure your bullet-wounds get attended by the best doctors that money can buy, once you're behind bars.*_

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

_*There—that's all the prep work I can manage, I guess.*_  Kaito huddled back beneath the covers, quickly setting a half-full glass of water he had left on the table two days before onto the floor as he opened a book and positioned it appropriately.  _*Okay, Thief Boy, think "sick."  Think sick, sick, sick; sick, sicker, sickest.  Bleaaaaagh.  Throw up on his shoes if you have to.*   Kaito tried to concentrate on looking flushed and pathetic (easier than pale and wan) as the sounds in the outer room indicated company coming._

What Hakuba Saguru and Nakamori Aoko saw when they entered the family room was this:  One Kuroba Kaito, hair disheveled and even spikier than usual, sprawling beneath a blanket on the couch.  The TV remote lay on the floor alongside an open book which took pride-of-place among several others of its kind and a scatter of tissues; the young magician had his head hanging half off the couch as he read, and he rolled over a little to look blearily up as his two classmates paused in the doorway.  "Mmph?  Thought I was—" (he yawned, rubbing at his eyes) "—imagining things; 'zat you, Hakuba-kun?"  He slumped back against an overstuffed pillow with another yawn.  "Nice of you to stop by; have a seat."

Kaito's face was distinctly redder than usual; a faint sheen of perspiration dotted his forehead (courtesy of the glass of water), and his eyes were shadowed.  As he waved Hakuba to a chair, he reflected that it was amazing what a little floor-dust rubbed on a person's upper cheekbones would do to make them look sickish; it didn't hurt to hang one's head over the couch for a few minutes, either, just to get that nice hectic flush in the skin.  But then, improvisation _*WAS*_ his specialty.

Hakuba was eyeing him with what he probably thought was a terribly good poker-face; too bad Kaito could read the detective like a book, one with everything written in oversized text.  If there was one thing the blond Britisher was bad at it was the fine art of dissimilation—he just didn't have the knack.  "So," said Kaito settling back and scratching at his hair with a hand, "What brings you here to grace us with your presence today?"

His classmate held out a sheaf of papers.  "Homework," he said briefly, a slight wrinkle beginning between his brows; clearly he had arrived expecting to find a bandaged, wounded Phantom Thief holed up and in pain in his lair, not a disheveled Kaito in a bathrobe.  How very disappointing for him; Kuroba Toichi's son smiled a cheerful little smile and decided to put on a performance worthy of his famous father.

"Oh hey…. thanks LOADS," he said as he rolled his eyes and sat up.  "Just what I needed, something to make me want to stay home a little longer."  He yawned a third time and streeeeeetched, ignoring the sharp twinges in his shoulder as he did so—they weren't *that* bad.  "Guess I can't stay in bed forever at that.  Hey, Aoko?  Could we persuade you to bring us some sodas or something?  Please?" he wheedled, while Hakuba looked disgruntled at his familiarity with the girl. He was looking a lot more perplexed, too—wounded thieves weren't supposed to act like that.  Aoko gave him a worried look and departed for the kitchen, her bathrobe-cord trailing behind her on the floor.

"I'd expect you wouldn't want to strain yourself, would you?"  That sharp look of Hakuba's—he always got it when he was trying to be cleverer-than-thou, trying to ferret out some little slip of the tongue.  Kaito merely grinned back at him as he shoved the quilt off and swung his feet off the couch.

"It's sweet of you to worry, Saguru-chan, but I'm fine—just had some sort of bug, y'know?  Headaches, a little fever, the occasional game of toss-the-cookies and the *worst* case of the runs in this century.  You wouldn't BELIEVE how many times I had to take off for the bathroom—and man, the _smell_ was—"

"Spare me the details, I believe you!" snapped the Britisher, drawing back in distaste; he recovered himself quickly, though, his sharp eyes searching Kaito's.  "You seem fairly well recovered now—so you should be able to make use of this, shan't you?"  And with that he pulled out something small and colorful from one pocket.  It looked like some sort of cloth bag; as Kaito peered at it inquiringly the blonde went on.  "I rather thought that you might need a little amusement during your convalescence; here:  _*Catch!!*"_

And with one quick movement he snapped the bag into the air, sending several objects directly towards his quarry—

--who caught them neatly with both hands and immediately sent them into a swift, spinning spiral pattern.  "Hey, COOL!!  A set of new juggling balls—I've been looking for these!  They're the kind you can put those chemical glow-sticks inside, aren't they?  _*THANKS,*_ Hakuba-kun!"  The magician gave him a cheerful nod of gratitude through the gyrating three-ball cycle, changing their direction over and over as his hands flashed in movements almost too quick for the eye to see.

Hakuba's jaw dropped; he looked…..

_*Awwwww… SO disappointed; poor widdle detective didn't catch the Kaitou, did he?  Tough, Saguru-chan; better luck next time-- not.*_  Kaito decided to end things with a flourish, spreading both arms wide and allowing the triple cascade to roll one after another from his right hand to his left, following the line of his obviously unbleeding and above all _unwounded _shoulders and arms and then moving in three quick tosses up into the air, where he snatched them in mid-flight and made them abruptly disappear.

Kaito displayed his empty hands to his rival and grinned an unrepentant grin, just like the one on his father's portrait.  "Great choice for a get-well present, Hakuba; I feel better already!"

And he bowed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hakuba didn't stay much longer after that; he kept darting such sharp, puzzled looks at Kaito that the young magician was hard put not to burst out laughing.  _*Oh man, if looks could kill I'd be a wisp of smoke coming from a crematorium about now.  He REALLY thought he had me—the poor schmuck was so sure that when he tossed me those little toys I'd wince or yell or miss my catch and then he'd have real grounds for suspicion.  The last thing he thought he'd see was a nice, healthy Kuroba-kun, juggling away with both hands.  Idiot; I've known about that police-radio of his for ages—I mean, for crying out loud, his DAD'S a cop.  And *I* do my homework; of course he was listening in on Nakamori's troops during the heist.*_

It hadn't helped matters that Spot had showed up just after the juggling episode, visibly smirking as he wound his fluffy white self back and forth against the teenage detective's slack-clad legs before strolling in triumph to purr beneath the couch; good old Saguru-chan had started sneezing almost immediately.

He flopped back onto the couch among the rather battered, overstuffed pillows and laughed silently to himself at the memory of Hakuba's dismayed face as Kaito had fielded the can of soda that Aoko had tossed at his head after he had jokingly called her "mom" (she really shouldn't have put on that apron over her robe); clearly his sempai had expected him to bleed all over the place, not juggle what had been thrown at him.  He chortled internally and then let the snickers escape out loud; _*Hah!  Hey, Hakuba-kun?  Looks like I got you by the--*_

"I wouldn't be _TOO_ smug if I were you."  Aoko shoved her dark hair irritably back from her face, leaning against the doorjamb.  "I mean, *obviously* he's suspicious… and… and what ARE you laughing at?"

The boy lay back lazily among the couch cushions, stretching again; his joints popped audibly.  "Aoko, he's been suspicious for absolute _*ages.*_  Don't you remember all that fuss a while back, when he was going on about how he had gotten Kid's age, body type, etcetera, and how I fit the profile?  Hakuba made a huge stink about it—and I have to admit, the guy's no idiot."  He chuckled.  "He even gave me a couple of scares, but he never got close enough to lay a finger on me."

She scowled down at him, crossing her arms and kicking at the doorjamb with one foot.  "If he had, you'd be in jail by now.  Did you ever think of _that?  What would you do then, hmm?  You're not going to find your dad's killers from behind bars—"  Aoko glared at him with a lowering glare that was startlingly like her father's when he was in a snit; as he blinked up at her, bemused, she reached over and thumped him on the tip of the nose with one forefinger.  "Pay attention!"_

"Ow!"  He sat up, rubbing at his face.  "Jeeze," he grumbled, "Why do I always like the violent types?"  

Kaito watched with interest as Aoko sort of froze in place with her mouth open; it was amazing how fast she blushed.  Cute, too.  _*At last,*_ thought Kaito fondly, _*I've figured out a way to make her stop talking.  I'll have to try saying something like that the next time she chases me with a mop.*_  One part of his mind admired the way her eyes were beginning to flash and glitter while the other part prepared to duck.

To his astonishment she seemed to collect herself and calm down; no random objects came flying at his head, no glasses of water or housecleaning equipment, no nothing—the Inspector's daughter merely stared at him coolly, eyes measuring.  _*Uh oh; I think I've pissed her off.  Calm Aoko = Thinking Aoko; Thinking Aoko = Possible Bad Day For Kaito.  The LAST time she looked at me like that I ended up explaining all about why I wear a white tux some nights.*  "Errrr… you were saying---?" he prodded hopefully._

"I was _SAYING_ that you weren't going to catch the bad guys from inside a jail-cell.  What happens if you get caught?  You'll be stuck inside a prison for the rest of your life and—"  But he had sat up now and was shaking his head.  "Oh really?  Why not?"

He stood up, rumpling his hair with one hand and scratching at the ever-present itch on his shoulder with the other.  "Because I'd escape.  Y'see, Aoko, you've never really seen me in action, have you?  Every time you've watched Kaitou Kid you've mostly been hoping to see him *fail* —you've never really paid attention to what he—**_I_**—can actually _*do.*_"   The young magician gave her a crooked little smile, one that slanted after a second into a more thoughtful look.  "Aoko?  Are you—well, are you _*really*_ okay with all of this?  If you aren't, I can stop talking about Kid around you—"

She regarded him, a curious light in her eyes.  "You talk about Kid almost as if he were somebody else, not… yourself."

Kaito sighed, walking past her to look out one of the windows.  He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the glass as he stared out into the late morning sunlight.  "Sometimes it's like that; sometimes I can plan for a heist like I was planning it for somebody else, not for me.  I mean," and he turned to smile again at Aoko for a second before turning back to the window, the light transforming his shaggy dark hair into bronze, "Kuroba Kaito's just a high school student, right?  Good at magic, maybe, good with jokes and all that but still just… a guy.  Kid, though—that's the funny thing; it's not as hard as you'd think, living up to the legend I'm supposed to be."  He continued to smile, but there was almost a shyness in his eyes when he looked across at her again.   "Sometimes I do stuff and then wonder, 'Where the hell did THAT come from?'"  He shook his head again.  "Never mind; you'll see.  Uhhh…. That is, if you *are* okay with this…..?"

When she didn't answer he continued to watch her nervously.  "Aoko--?  -----Aoko, if you're trying to torment me, you're doing a really good job.  _ARE_ you?"  From beneath the couch Spot let out a derisive meow.

The Inspector's daughter was still watching him.  "'Okay with this'—you mean, okay with your stealing?  No, I'm not.  But I'm not 'okay' with my dad being shot at by these whoever-they-ares either, and I'm not too happy about their shooting *you* either," she grumbled.  "Next time it happens you may not have some little girl's balcony to land on; instead you'll go SPLAT! in the middle of  an intersection somewhere or on the side of a building, and somebody'll have to clean up the mess…"

He had winced at her 'SPLAT!'; it coincided all too well with a few private thoughts of his own.  But he watched her back, wondering what was going on inside her head; _*That's one of the reasons she's… important to me—because she's a puzzle, something I never get tired of figuring out.  I'll bet Kudo would approve.*   "Aoko?"_

She gave him back his own faintly shy smile, but there was determination underlying it as well.  "So that's why you're going to let me _*help*_ you, isn't it?"  The young woman walked a few steps, leaning against the opposite edge of the window with her arms still crossed.

"Uhhhh….."  Kaito's brain wasn't quite taking in what she was saying; _*Must have missed something somewhere, either that or her logic is escaping __me.__*  "Help me?"_

Nakamori Aoko rolled her eyes, exasperated.  "Well, you WERE planning on drawing the bad guys out again, weren't you?  How were you going to do that?"

He blinked.  "Well--- with another heist, maybe.  How else?"_  *Is she suggesting what I think she is?*_

"Fine.  So….." and she drew a deep breath, tucking her straggling hair back with one hand.  "What do we do first?"

**_*--wha--??*_**

Kaito could hardly believe what he was hearing; all of the weirdness of the night before paled in comparison.  "A-Aoko?  Are you actually offering to _help me out with a heist?_  HELLO Aoko, attention all brain-cells, knock-knock-knock, anybody home?.….  If you haven't been paying attention, that's a *criminal offense* you know…  You're not actually serious, are you--?  ----- You ARE.  You really are.  You're actually contemplating helping me steal my next target."  He sort of slumped against the window-sill, sitting down backwards onto the chair that (fortunately for him) occupied the corner beside it.  "Whoooboy; I think I've finally lost my mind and I'm SURE you have.  You *REALLY* want to help me plan a heist?"

The Inspector's daughter shrugged.  "Of course I do," she stated matter-of-factly, amusement quirking one corner of her mouth.  "Who _*else* is going to keep you out of trouble?"_

*******************************************************************************************************

"GENTA-KUUUUUN!!!  GET IT, GENTA-KUUUUUN!!!!"  Mitsuhiko whooped at the top of his lungs, running like crazy down the grassy length of the park's hill.  A little ways beyond him Genta was thundering across the grass with his arms outstretched in pursuit of a bright yellow plastic Frisbee; the toy curved through the air in a direct trajectory for an ornamental bush next to a park bench.

Unfortunately while the _Frisbee_ was able to take the curve as it flew down the hill, _Genta-kun_ was *not.*  He plummeted straight ahead, arms windmilling as he attempted to slow his descent down the slope—to no avail.  At the last second, the teenage couple smooching on the bench looked up, wide-eyed, and three yells split the air:

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!"

**"AAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!"** **"AAAAAAAAAAHHH_SHIT!!!"_** ****

_*** C R A S H ! ! ! ***_

After bodies had been picked up from the ground, profuse apologies had been administered, and one very chastened (well, for a little while anyways) eight-year-old boy had retrieved the Frisbee from the foliage, Rita Saunders shook her head firmly.  "No, no and NO. Enough Frisbee for a while, already!  Let's take a break, kids—"  The young woman pointed towards several food-vender's carts at the park's edge.  "How about lunch?  I don't know about you lot, but I'm starving."

This met with general approval, especially from Mitsuhiko, who seemed to be in the midst of a growing-spurt.  The freckled boy was already heading towards Genta's inches in height and looked likely to shoot past; Conan had been fighting down some severe twinges of envy.  As the kids headed en masse towards the okinomiyaki cart, Rita called out after Ayumi.  "Hey, Ayumi-chan?"

"Hmm?"  The little girl turned, one fist clamped tightly around the money that her keeper had just passed over to her and the other shading her eyes against the sunlight.  

The American girl chuckled and reached down to brush a twig out of the child's messy hair; Ayumi-chan tended to play hard.  "I found one of your juggling-stones in a cup this morning; just thought I'd let you know in case you were missing one."

The child's forehead wrinkled; she squinted at the young woman, looking doubtful.  "You did?"  Reaching into her pocket, she dug out the handful of stones that she had scooped up earlier that morning, sorting through them with a curious finger.  "Ummm…. which one?"

"That one—the clear one there.  See?  It was in your HelloKitty mug."  The student tilted her head to one side, glancing towards the vendor's carts; Genta and Mitsuhiko were urging the long-suffering cook to add more mushrooms to their okinomiaki while Conan and Rin debated the varied merits of takoyaki and yakitori noodles.

"It was… in my mug?  The red one?"  At Rita-kun's nod the child frowned, thinking back across the origin of her stones.  Ranging from almond to walnut-sized, the motley assortment ran anywhere from several pretty pieces of agate she had bought herself while on a school field trip to the local Natural History Museum to a bit of something interesting but unidentifiable that had turned up during recess one day.  She didn't really care; they were nice to her fingers, and the different sizes and shapes helped her to develop her "juggler's hand," or so Hei-san told her.  He had cautioned her against juggling only like-sized objects; that sort of showmanship, he said, was _boooooring._

But she didn't remember the clear stone from anywhere.  Ayumi held it up between her thumb and forefinger; it glittered in the bright sunlight like an angel's tear, perfectly colorless and silky-smooth.  Giving the mental equivalent of a shrug, the child tucked the handful back into her pocket, resolving to practice after lunch; then she followed Rita-kun towards the carts, her thoughts already turning away from stones and towards the far more appealing prospect of lunch.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"So far, so good," murmured Rin beneath her breath as she wiped her hands and face with a paper napkin prior to crumpling it up; beside her Conan nodded, still munching the last of his yakisoba.  He took a long slurp of his soda as she continued softly, looking out over the rolling expanses of the park.  "No scary guys in black trenchcoats, no mysterious abductions, no bombs, no… what?"

The boy had stopped chewing and was looking at her oddly, one eyebrow up.  He swallowed.  "You know… it never really occurred to me before just how often that sort of thing has happened to me since I got shrunk; how come it didn't when I was still the old me, hm?"  He dusted his hands together, and Rin passed over a napkin with a distinct _Wipe-Your-Face,-Conan-Kun "Ran-neechan" expression; he took it meekly and complied._

Rin rolled her eyes.  "You _*are* still the old you, Shinichi, just like I'm still the old *me*—you're just… younger."_

He snorted, pushing his glasses up his nose.  "Hah; right.  _Tell me that the next time I have to boost you up to a bookshelf or something, or some bigger kid pushes you around at Recess—"_

She shot him a smug little smile.  "Bigger kids don't pick on ME, not since that bully picked on Teicho-kun a couple of months ago."

This, he had to admit, was true; one of the smaller kids in their class had been being shaken down by an older, would-be Future Youth Yakuza type.  It had taken several rather obvious displays during Recess of Rin's karate skills to drive the point home, but after she had demonstrated how she could put her foot through a board he had apparently gotten the message.  _*Especially* since she had had him hold one side of the board and had had Teicho-kun hold the other.  As a final little touch she had then written "BULLY" on the board's surface; no matter *how* dense the kid might have been, that had been a fairly clear set of signals._

Much to Rin's chagrin, of course, her informal little demonstration had more kids than ever wanting to play "karate class" at Recess now; the really _funny thing, though, was that most of them were _boys._  _

The young woman in the little girl's body took a long drink from her soda, hooking one leg up underneath her as the other one swung idly from the park bench where they sat.  It was mid-day, and the sunlight was pouring down as if doing its best to dispel any thoughts of evildoers in black.  The whole world seemed to be full of drowsy warmth, the scent of freshly-mowed park grass (she could see the park-worker making rows across the lawn in the distance) and the smells of their lunch; it was almost a distillation of some of her childhood memories of playing in the park.

_*Times like this make being a kid again worth it; it's funny, but it's almost a pity that more people can't have the chance to experience this kind of thing a second time.  I know Shinichi wants to change back, and so do I… of course… but--*_

And she smiled a little, watching the worker with his lawnmower make another turn; she stretched her leg out, musing on the dirtiness of the tennis-shoe at the end of the skinny ankle and on how that sort of thing just didn't seem to _matter that much anymore.  _*--but that won't keep me from enjoying my 'second childhood' while it lasts, however long that might be.  Although I have to admit, I don't exactly look forward to going through puberty again.  Oh well; at least this time I'll have a clue.*__

She stole a little sideways look at the boy beside her; he had leaned back and was watching Ayumi, eyes a little sleepy but still alert.  The girl was showing off her juggling skills; she had a handful of rocks of some sort that she had picked up and was currently sending two of them around and around in a creditably even circle.  _*Not too difficult, I guess—not that I can juggle—but she IS just eight, after all, and… oooh…*_

--and now her young friend had *switched patterns,* sending the stones up and down in a one-handed cascade while Mitsuhiko and Genta goggled.  _*Will you look at that?  She's getting GOOD.  Go Ayumi-kun!  I've got to get her to show that to Sonoko; she'll love it!*_  The Suzuki girl was very fond of any kind of performer's trick.

It was sort of funny, when you thought of just where the child had learned her new skills—it wasn't every gradeschooler that had a world-famous Phantom Thief as an instructor.  Rin still was not quite certain how she felt about that; okay, granted, he was a criminal… but it seemed that he had good, sound reasons (if not legal ones) behind his activities.  If he could just keep things from slopping over onto Ayumi or any other innocents, then—well, they'd just have to see, wouldn't they?

She took another pull on her drink.  She knew that Shinichi was dying to catch Kaitou Kid, had been dying to see him in custody ever since the Clock Tower incident; the thief's repeated escapes and outwittings irked him badly.  And of course, there was the little matter of a certain impersonation of her former self…..

Rin—Ran—still remembered how it had happened; she had just stepped outside onto the _Queen Elizabeth's deck  for a _second,_ that was all, had taken a few steps over to the railing by the lifeboats to peer down into the froth and dark water below--  And then there had been a hand over her eyes from behind, and a cheerful voice saying _"Guess who, Ran-kun?"  _She had automatically thought it to be a classmate or some such and had drawn a breath to speak, thinking hard; that breath, however, had contained something that sent her senses spinning into darkness.  And as sleep had billowed up and around and over her like a black silk scarf, she had heard the same soft voice whisper, _"Have a nice nap; Mouri-san; don't worry, you'll be fine."_  And that was all._

_*'Fine', huh?*_   When she met up again with Kid herself _she'd teach him a thing or two about 'fine'….._

Crunching on a bit of ice, Rin glanced over at the vendor carts; as the hour progressed, more customers were gradually heading over.  There was a little exercise she had been doing for the last few months, one she had devised for herself to make herself a bit more useful in the cases they kept seeming to get involved in:  observation.  Whenever she found herself idle, she would watch the people around her and try to _notice things, ones that made each person unique.  Not something so simple as a face or hair color—it was better if she could look at somebody and think __'That man has different colors of paint all over his shoes, old and new stains both; he's a house-painter' __or 'Look, old burn-marks on that man's arms and I can smell the grease from here; he's a cook'.  Maybe it wasn't much, but sometimes it helped.  For Shinichi, that sort of thing came naturally; for her, it took a little more work.  _

But she was learning, and she was putting her skills to use.

It wasn't that she had been so unobservant before; Mouri Ran had been a detective's daughter and had been a part of many, many cases in the past.  She knew the procedure, so to speak.  But having been dropped down several feet and at least two social groups tended to change a person's perspective, and after she had gotten used to being in a crowd of what seemed to be mostly _legs every time she was among a group of adults, Himitsu Rin had decided that it was time to *use* her new point of view.  Shinichi had been right; people just didn't pay much attention to little kids, which allowed for some rather unique opportunities for observation.  And besides:  it was nice to look at something that wasn't *knees.*_

_*Take those women over there, for example; they're on vacation.  They've got camera-bags with them, clothes so new the creases are still showing and one of them has a Tokyo Metro map sticking out of her purse; I can see airline check-tags on the camera bag, too; if I was close enough, I could tell how long they had been traveling and from where…..  And that old man on the other bench, I'd bet that he's a gardener or something like that—his shoes are sort of stained with mud, the way shoes get when you just let the mud dry on them.  He's reading some sort of horticulture magazine, and I saw him looking at one of the flowerbeds sort of closely.  And I'm not sure, but I *think* he's got what looks like the handle of a trowel sticking out of his jacket-pocket… but why on earth would he take one with him on a Sunday in the park?*_

"Shi— Conan-kun?"  The boy beside her was finishing off his soda as well.  He glanced up inquiringly.  "That man over there on the park bench, the one in front of the yakitori booth—do you think he's a gardener?"

He gave her an odd look, one quick eyebrow up.  "I'd say so," he said slowly, "considering that he's got an 'AKIMOTO ESTATES LANDSCAPING STAFF' patch on the top pocket of his jacket….."

Rin deflated.  "Oh.  Guess I missed that bit."  She deflated even further as they both watched the old man pull the handle of his 'trowel' from his jacket; it turned out to be a cell-phone.  _*Can't win them all, I guess--??*_

The slight figure beside her had suddenly gone remarkably stiff, remarkably still.  A faint, faint sound came from him almost imperceptibly:  the sound of an indrawn breath, hard and sharp.  "Conan-kun?"

He didn't answer, but his hands were balled up into white-knuckled fists and his shoulders beneath her concerned touch had gone as rigid as iron.  There were prickles of sweat beading the skin on his face; what in the _*world?*  _"Conan?" she asked again urgently, lowering her voice to a whisper.  _"Shinichi?  Answer me—what's wrong?"_

Nothing; he was completely focused on something… somebody… on the park bench?  But there was just the gardener-type, and he didn't exactly look too awful—

_*No; no, he's looking PAST them, at the yakisoba cart—past that too.  Who--?  Open your eyes, Ran; you were just patting yourself on the back about your observation skills, so look and *see.*  There are cars parked all along the street, but none of them look particularly funny—there's a taxi pulling away, though, across on the other side.*_  She strained her eyes, trying not to be too obvious.  _*Hm; people on the sidewalk—who just got out of that taxi?  Oh… that man in the jacket, he's putting something in his pocket.  Wallet?  Probably.  TWO men together and they're looking this way; maybe they're meeting somebody here?  They're crossing the street now—why are they dressed like that in this weather?  Even lightweight jackets are almost too hot.  And hats…?  Oh; that man on the sidewalk in front of the yakisoba cart, he must be the one they're meeting, look; he's wearing a coat too…..*_

It was about then that the penny dropped.  But after all, it wasn't like Rin/Ran had ever actually *seen* any of the Black Organization members before.

_*Oh.*_

Her first, slightly stunned thought was that if they had wanted to look more anonymous they should have been maybe the _Grey_ Organization or the _Casual Dress_ Organization; those black trenchcoats and jackets (one of the men was wearing what looked for all the world like a black windbreaker) just screamed 'villain'.  Or, possibly, 'goth'.  They looked a bit old for that, though…..  The younger of the three had a face like a fist, all blunt surfaces and creases around his eyes and mouth; his companion (the one in the windbreaker) was so commonplace-looking as to be remarkable in his anonymity.  But it was the _third_ man, the one they had crossed the street to meet—_he_ was the one that had apparently caught Shinichi's rigid, sweating attention.

He was a large man, rather bulky in a muscular way; his shoulders looked to be nearly splitting the black jacket and the maroon shirt beneath it.  It was hard to see anything in his expression behind the dark shades and hat-brim especially since he was standing in profile, but she thought that he looked more than a little irritated.

And then he turned slightly, and Himitsu Rin shivered as a chill rippled through her small frame at the cold harshness in the blocky face.  The black-clad man looked as immovable and implacable as a slab of stone, the one that that you might face in the split second before it crushed you to death as easily as a child stepping on a weed.  _*He looks… like he could kill somebody and simply not care, like stepping on a bug.  It wouldn't matter to him whether they lived or not.*_

Beside her the boy made a faint, edged whisper of sound, barely a breath of a word.  A name—one she had heard from him before during the retelling of a nightmare that had happened to him once upon a time at an amusement park more than a year ago:

**_"…Vodka….."_**

******************************************************************************************************************************************

TO BE CONTINUED…..

**_Ysabet's Notes:_**_  **sweatdrop**  The plot thickens; matter of fact, it's actually sort of congealing like Jell-O at this point.  How many people expected that to happen to Kaito, Aoko, Ayumi… and Spot, for that matter?  I have SUCH weirdness planned.  This has become The Fic That Would Not Die—and I'm enjoying it no end.  Sure hope I didn't leave any plot-holes; it's getting tricky.  Oh, and my apologies for the delay in getting this out; Real Life has reared its ugly head in ways I never, ever expected lately and it slowed things a bit._

_Next time:  A little romance, some excursions and alarums.  Nakamori gets bored, Aoko gets educated, and Kaito gets playful.  Another riddle (obscure in the EXTREME; I sweated over this one!) and a new heist in the planning.  Hakuba gets paranoid, ground rules get laid and a Phantom Thief pays a call on the neighbors….._


	11. Homework

**_Chapter 11:  Homework_**

Hakuba Saguru, son of Senior Chief Inspector Hakuba Ryo, was not a happy young man.

_*I nearly had him; I know I did.  How the *blazes* did he manage his idiotic juggling act if he had bullet-wounds on his torso?  Kuroba should have been wincing every time he moved, not making asinine jokes at my expense.*_  The blonde half-Japanese grumbled to himself as he sat, hands clasped together in thought, on a bench a block and a half away from his quarry's home.

It wasn't just any bench, of course; if you sat in just the right place, you had a straight-line view to the Kuroba residence down an alley and across a neighbor's yard.  A good place for surveillance; if it had a drawback, it was only that the watcher could quite easily be watched as well.

Not that Hakuba was worried.  He had other things on his mind.

_*Stupid git.  I bloody well KNOW I'm right—he's Kaitou Kid and he took at least one bullet while leaving the scene of the crime the other night.  So why didn't he show any effects?  He could at least have had the decency to bleed a little…*_

There was a flutter of wings above and behind him as Watson came in for a landing on the back of the bench.  The peregrine made a soft, keening noise in the back of her throat; she (and yes, Watson was a female; Hakuba had long since become resigned to the fact that eventually every acquaintance he had was going to point out the disparity between the bird's name and gender at one point or another.  He occasionally wished that he had named her 'Irene.') mantled her wings briefly and then settled them into place, eyeing her owner sideways in the fashion of birds.  The young detective sighed, reaching up to smooth one finger across his falcon's breast-feathers.

It bothered him more than he wanted to admit, the way that Kuroba had seemingly shrugged off his injury.  And it hadn't helped that Nakamori-kun had been right there the whole time, either; she seemed to be even less aware of the thief's iniquity than usual.  The young woman had seemed remarkably casual and easy with him, hadn't she?  For a moment Hakuba's tawny brows drew down as he entertained dark suspicions regarding out-of-town parents and unchaperoned activities; but then he dismissed them as unworthy of further consideration.  _*Kuroba might be a thief, but he's not a cad.*_

It never occurred to him to wonder about _Aoko's_ intentions, which showed that he was either terribly naïve or simply unobservant.

The wind was picking up just a bit; it sent leaf-litter and scraps of this and that scurrying about his feet in little whirls, driven down the sidewalk in fits and gusts.  Watson mantled again, shaking her head to settle her neck-feathers into place.  The young detective shrugged within his light jacket in much in the same way, rising disgustedly to his feet to flag a passing taxi down.  As he gave a terse address to the driver, he ignored the thin-faced, dried-out looking man waiting a little ways down the sidewalk at a bus-stop, other than a vague mental comment of _'nice trenchcoat' before climbing inside the vehicle.  Behind him Watson took to the air to follow her master as she had done many times before._

_*I **will find a way to catch you out, Kuroba; you can't win past me forever, not even with your luck.  Eventually you'll be a section in the history books, and I'll be right there with you—only the chapter won't be titled "Master Thieves", it'll be "Great Detectives" instead.  And then I'll finally understand exactly *why* you do what you do, and I'll be able to move on to the next challenge.*  Jaw**_ clenched, the blond stared fixedly down the alleyway one last time before the taxi sped away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Behind him, notes were being jotted down into a small notebook by the man at the bus-stop, who had taken Hakuba's seat on the bench:

----------------------------------------------------------

_Subject 8736 has been under study again by classmate; suggest adding classmate to the list of active surveillance.  Extreme caution advised due to addition's relationship with high-up police members; possible shadowing in near future?  Capture of 8736 by police would be understandably high-risk to current operations and should therefore be avoided; perhaps a fatal mishap to addition subject could be arranged instead of surveillance if action seems necessary?  Will await further instructions._

-----------------------------------------------------------

The thin-faced man closed his notebook and slipped it quietly inside his black trenchcoat, adjusting his shades against the sunlight.

*******************************************************************************************************

_*Breath.  Just breath.  He's not looking at you or Rin or any of the others, he's not looking this way at all.  So just breath.*_

_*Oh God.*_

Terror fought for supremacy over Conan/Shinichi's small frame as he stared, horrified, at the man who had been part of what had amounted to his death and resurrection so many months before.  **_Vodka._**  He had seen that square, blunt face so many, many times in nightmares—the *bad* ones, the ones where he came home from school to find the dead bodies of all the people he loved strewn about Mouri's office like broken dolls.  In _those dreams Gin and Vodka were always sitting at the table, drinking tea and waiting for him with their still-warm guns lying beside the cups; and Ran… Ran's cooling corpse was always there on the floor at their feet, her blood spattering their shoes._

_(But ever since Rin had come into being, the dreams hadn't been so bad or come so often; now, when the horror reached its height he found himself more often than not being dragged from one dream into another, a dream where Rin held him close and comforted him with gentle, soothing words and a little girl's embrace while nearby his older self accepted equal comfort in Ran's arms until the nightmare at last faded away.)_

Now, though, the nightmare was right there on the sidewalk less than twenty feet away and moving towards him_._

_*Breath.  Again.  Again.  Good.  Now get everybody the hell OUT of here.*   _"…..Rin-kun?"

At his odd tone she turned back to stare at him, her face a little pale.  "Rin-kun, let's—let's all go over by the swings, okay?  _ALL of us—"  He slid off his bench, landing on the ground with a slight thud.  "Race you?" he asked, eyes franticly urgent.__  *Please, please, understand…*_

"But… oh!  Okay!"  She slid off the bench, moving past him to gather the others as he turned back towards the sidewalk.....

_(*Stay away, Ran, stay safe, keep the others safe…..  Tell Ai to be careful if I can't--  Ohshit.*)_

….. and Vodka, who was walking _right towards him, less than ten feet away now._

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.  His feet were like lead, the way they were in bad dreams; he tried to move, to edge sideways, to reach for his watch, to do _*something, anything at all*_ to keep Vodka from pulling out a gun and—

The blank, blocky face wearing the heavy shades was bearing down on him like an iceberg, and the square hand was reaching inside the black trenchcoat and pulling out—

_*… that's it, he's going to shoot me and I'm dead--*_

_---a rolled-up newspaper?!?___

The black-coated man tossed it past him towards the trashcan at the end of the bench, his bland, blunt countenance betraying not the slightest iota of recollection or recognition as his glance slid over the boy's face.

And then he turned around and walked back towards his two companions, who were currently buying coffee from a vendor.  

And that was _all._

Conan felt more than a little faint.  He sagged backwards against the bench, knees weak.  _***He… didn't know me.  He's not here to kill me or the others.  We're still safe.*  **_Somewhere in the back of his mind, behind the bits of Kudo Shinichi that were still busy running around in panicked circles, he heard himself note clinically that Vodka was wearing gloves despite the warm weather; _*…..damn; no prints available from the newspaper then…..*_

_*I can't believe he didn't recognize me.  I can't believe he walked right up to me and he didn't even--*_

"Conan?  Conan-kun?"  Steps beside him then, and a small, sweat-damp hand was taking his cold one.  "Come on, let's go play on the swings."  Rin was right there, her eyes full of fear and concern as she pulled him away from the bench and away across the grass towards the other kids, who were already pelting at a dead run for the swingsets.  Genta and Mitsuhiko were tearing off full-tilt, vying for the lead while Ayumi shrieked cheerfully along behind them.

_*They're okay, all of them.  Ran-- Rin's okay, Rita-kun--*_

He looked past his shoulder, listening for gunshots even as he made sure that the American girl _was_ actually following.  As his classmates careened into the swings and dove for seats, Rin kept hold of his hand.  "Are you alright?" she asked in a low voice, also glancing back across the playground.  "That man… I remember, you said he was one of the two—"

A quick gesture cut her off; mechanically, the boy sat down in an empty swing on the end, his hands clutching the suspending chains in a sweating, white-knuckled grasp; Rin walked around behind him to lean against a nearby pole, watching with concern.  "Yeah," he said softly, staring at the ground.  "That's him.  I've seen him a few times since—hell, I even ran right *into* him and G—his partner—once, but….."  Conan laughed a little painfully, still looking away; he would not raise his eyes.  He didn't want her to see the fear there.

The loud sound of the swings' double-creaks and clatter mixed with the shouts and boasts of their three companions, but he kept his head down.  "Ran," he whispered, "If they don't know about me, if they're not here for me, what ARE they here for?"  He looked up then, his eyes tracking the distant, dark figure a few hundred yards away, watching as it joined its two companions and they slowly began to move across the grass towards a distant copse of trees.

She was silent for a second, thinking hard.  "It could be for any of a number of reasons," she said slowly.  "But… " and he felt both of her hands come to rest gently on his shoulders from behind.  "You think you know, don't you?  Why?"

_**creakcreak—creakcreak**  The_ swings were as loud as his heartbeat, pounding in both their ears.  And across the park the three figures had reached the trees and had paused there.  Conan's eyes stayed fixed on the three men, his expression intent and far more tense than any gradeschooler's had a right to be.  "It has to do with where they've gone," he answered grimly.  "Those trees—the tallest one's the one I was under when I had my little chat with Ayumi's juggling teacher the other day.  _Remember?"_

The men had paused now, and as far as he could tell they were surveying the area; "They… well, they *could* be here for another reason, couldn't they?*  Her voice was unsure, a little unsteady; his fear had frightened her, and Rin's small hands tightened on his shoulders until they dug in.

"Maybe," he answered softly.  "But we're already pretty certain there's at least a chance Kuroba's been under watch… and lately there've been those attacks during his heists.  And now we've got three of the bad guys showing up at a place he regularly frequents; want to bet they've got his school staked out too, whichever one it is?"

_**creakcreak—creakcreak**  The_ swings sang along, camouflaging their quiet voices with their rough music.  They made a strange counterpoint.

Rin's fists tightened on his shoulders even more; the former Mouri Ran was _not weak for her 'age', and at this rate he was going to have bruises.  Not that he cared.  "If they just wanted to kill him, couldn't they just—I don't know, shoot him from a car or something?  He probably walks to school or takes a bus; that'd be the easiest way to kill him, and the least conspicuous, wouldn't it?"_

Silently Conan blessed his companion's involvement in all those past cases; she didn't waste time going 'but people don't DO things like that!' all over the place.  She had seen too much for that sort of nonsense.  "They tried to take him down the other night and it didn't work; I wonder why they've switched from surveillance to active attacks after all this time?  That's the big question…  They've probably been watching him pretty closely since he started up his 'career' as Kid—why try to kill him now?  What's changed things?"

The girl's hands slid around and she hugged him gently from behind in reassurance, half for herself as well as for him.  "And what are they doing here _now?"_

_**creakcreak—creakcreak**_   The jingle of the swings' chains seemed to fill the world; funny, the kids weren't yelling or laughing at each other any more.

Off in the distance, the trio of black figures moved slowly back towards the edge of the park again; internally Conan shivered with impatience.  _*If the kids and Rita-kun weren't here I could tail them, but if I tried Rita'd follow; she's the token adult, she'd do her best to keep me in line or protect me if things got ugly.  In a way, she's the most vulnerable of the group.  Can't trail them, can't eavesdrop—I'd have to get a sticker-mike on them to do that—can't do a goddamned THING right now but be grateful they're not here to mow us all down…..*_

_*Hey—why's it so quiet all of a sudden?*_

_*Uh oh.*_

The swings were no longer creaking; instead, a gentle jangling was all that was heard as they swung empty back into place.  He turned around slowly to look over one shoulder past Rin; three interested sets of eyes were fixed on his face as Ayumi, Genta and Mitsuhiko draped themselves side-by-side on one of the support-bars separating their part of the swingsets from his.  "What's up, Conan-kun?" inquired Mitsuhiko, his thin face a little suspicious.

_*Crap.  Ayumi's the only one with even the faintest clue about the Black Org, and that's only because she knows about Ran and me.  How do I explain this?*  He_ tried to stall.  "I… what makes you think anything's up?"

The freckled boy rolled his eyes and heaved an exaggerated sigh.  "Conan-kun, you're a TERRIBLE liar.  You're all nervous and sweaty and you've been watching those guys over there—" and to both his and Rin's horror Mitsuhiko pointed openly at the distant forms of the three Black Organization members (who fortunately appeared to pay no attention) "—and when you got on the swing you didn't even start swinging, and Rin's being reeeeeeeally girlfriendly…"  Genta elbowed him with a snicker; he had the grace to look a little abashed before he continued.  "That's *not* normal, and you always say to look for the things that're not normal.  So what's _up, huh?"_

Ayumi's gaze was following the three men's progress as they headed for the sidewalk; a furrow in her brow indicated some train of thought going on in her mind… and a sudden widening of her eyes showed that the train had reached its station, so to speak.  She drew in a quick breath, opening her mouth to say something that Conan was certain he did NOT want Mitsuhiko or Genta to hear—

_*Eeep!  Think fast, Kudo, or your secret is tomorrow's Recess gossip--*_

"Okay, okay," he said hurriedly.  Behind him he heard a sigh and a faint mutter of "…this is what you get for training them this well, you know…" from Rin.  _*Tell me about it,* he thought wryly; this wasn't exactly the first time his young friends' intelligence had turned around and bitten him on the backside.  Conan kept a wary eye on the three dark figures across the park; they were further away than ever now, probably going to flag down a taxi.  Why the hell had Vodka and his cohorts been in a taxi?  Where was Gin's car, anyway?  For that matter, where was __Gin?_

_*Crap.*  Ayumi_ was putting her two yen's worth in now, something to be dreaded under the circumstances.  The girl was resting her chin on her crossed arms, hanging half over the swingset's bar with a severe expression on her face.  _"Coooooooonan-kun…..  Those were the—the bad guys you told me about a little while ago, weren't they?  The ones that… um…"  Her eyes grew even wider as she realized that she was treading on forbidden ground, and she hastily placed a hand over her own mouth.  Genta and Mitsuhiko looked outraged, their jaws dropping in tandem.  Conan sighed, shutting his own eyes as they began to sputter; any more stress and he would explode….._

_*Hell, much more of this and Gin and Vodka won't HAVE to shoot me; I'll just be the youngest cardiac arrest in Japanese history.*_

Then he felt Rin's light touch on his shoulders again, her fingers barely resting there but somehow managing to convey her worry and caring.  It helped—not a lot, but enough to allow Kudo Shinichi, detective and adult, to take the place of Edogawa Conan, increasingly panicky child.  "You want to know?" he demanded tersely, cutting both Genta and Mitsuhiko off in mid-complaint; "Fine.  Let's go sit down and I'll tell you everything you need."  _*Not everything I COULD tell you, but you don't need that, do you?  You just need enough to keep you safe.  Sorry, guys, but that's reality; regular murderers and so forth are one thing, the Black Organization is another.  This isn't some movie where the little kids can win out over armed gunmen with a few cute stunts and special gadgets.  I wish it was.*_

Across the park a taxi pulled away, bearing three black-clad emissaries of death; Conan felt limp with relief.  _*Nobody died.  Lost my chance to chase Vodka, but nobody died.*   He sighed, traded slightly shaky but resigned looks with Rin, and gave in to the inevitable.  "C'mon."_

They followed him away from the swings to something that had just been built in the park playground only a few months before, a conglomeration of brightly-colored plastic and metal tubes, panels, slides, ladders and crawlways that vaguely resembled the kind of thing some people bought for their pet hamsters to play in.  When Conan had first seen the 'playhouse' (or whatever it was supposed to be) in its finished state, he had been highly dubious about the whole thing; however, he had quickly found that you could settle down in the shade beneath it and be virtually invisible behind the mass of shrieking, hurtling child-bodies that were usually clambering on, over, around and through it.

It was a great place to take a break when you were tired and a pretty good spot to watch people from, too—if you could ignore the noise, that is.  Threading his way through the usual mob of energetic kids, Conan lead his small group to the shady place in the nook beneath the main bulk of the contraption.   "Alright," he said, eyeing them a little morosely, "what have you figured out so far?  --Ayumi, hang on a sec, will you please?"  She nodded and scooted back into the shade, looking a bit uncertain.

At this, Genta and Mitsuhiko scowled at him with the kind of thorough, thunderous disapproval that only two smitten little boys can emit; they subsided slightly when Rin smiled at them and added "Don't worry, he'll explain… or else **_I_** will."  At that, they grinned at each other and settled back.

Mitsuhiko was the first to talk.  "Well…..  When we were eating, you got all nervous when you were watching some guys that came from across the street."  He shrugged and scratched at his head, his freckled face nonplussed; "I thought for a minute you were gonna take off running, you were so scared.  That big guy in the black coat looked mean… is he a murderer from one of our cases?" he asked eagerly.

Genta poked him with one stubby finger.  "Baka, if he was a murderer he'd be in jail.  Besides, we haven't _had a lot of cases lately."  He sighed gustily in disappointment, picking up where his friend had left off.  "Conan-kun, that was kind of weird—you don't usually _*get*_ scared.  Nervous sometimes… but not scared, not even when people point guns."  With that rather unusual insight, Genta-kun cocked his head a little to the side and peered questioningly at the smaller boy.  "Why were you so worried about those guys?  I mean, they looked kinda rough, yeah, but we've met lots scarier-looking criminals—"_

Ayumi could only contain herself for so long.  She shook her head vehemently.  "YOU'RE being a baka, Genta-kun!  We've *also* met lots of people who looked really nice but who were murderers or thieves or—"  She skidded to an abrupt halt at the word 'thieves', flushing and looking away; Conan sighed, nodding.

"Let me put it this way, everybody—sometimes the bad guys really *do* wear black."  He then spent the next twenty minutes or so giving a modified explanation of the Black Organization, doing his best to downplay the 'organization' part of the whole thing.  _*The less they know, the less they can let slip; I mean, they're great kids but… they're still *kids.*  I don't want them disappearing because they said the wrong thing in a public place.  I can just SEE Mitsuhiko and Genta 'sneaking' through a crowd at the train station or wherever, pointing out every black trenchcoat in sight and yelling "There's one!" at the top of their lungs.  All they'd have to do would be to pinpoint the wrong person and they'd end up on a 'missing child' poster.*_

Mitsuhiko shifted impatiently, sitting crosslegged with his back against a brightly-painted support girder.  "So these guys in the black outfits are… sort of like… _yakuza or something?  There's not just a few of them, there's a *lot* of them?" he hazarded, frowning.  Both his and Genta's faces were intent and more than a little puzzled; the Young Detectives had dealt with all sorts of scary people since their first case—why should these be any different?_

Rin had kept silent for the most part up until now, but at that she leaned forward, shaking her head.  "Mitsuhiko-kun, do you remember that movie you saw last year?  The American one about the gangsters?"  She had taken the entire group to a foreign film festival, mostly to watch the new Disney flicks but also to catch a few subtitled older movies; Mitsuhiko had been very impressed with _The Godfather, though the others had spent more time watching animated classics like __Sleeping Beauty and _Robin Hood _(she had wondered at the time why Conan and Ai had so adamanantly refused to watch _Peter Pan;_ in retrospect, she could understand)._

He nodded vigorously, understanding dawning—and the first touches of fear.  Beside him, Genta scowled at the ground, his heavy brows drawing down.  "So what do we do if we see some of these guys?  Call the police?"

Ayumi rolled her eyes; the little girl sat behind Rin, busily (if inexpertly) braiding her friend's hair into long pigtails on either side.  Despite his remaining case of nerves Conan had to fight back a grin; he hadn't seen Ran wear _that particular hairstyle since she was… well, since she was in grade-school, actually…  "Weren't you __*listening,* Genta-kun?  Conan-kun said that they've got spies all over the place, in the police-station and in offices and—and everywhere.  So we can't call the police if we see them—and anyway, how will we know if it's _THEM?_  Lots of people wear black jackets and coats and hats and stuff."  She fastened off the first braid with an elastic hairband and blinked, considering.  "My dad's got one; so does my mom."_

With the casualness of close friends, Mitsuhiko whapped the larger boy on top of the head.  "Baka.  MY dad's got one too, and I know _*he's* not one of the bad guys—"_

Genta-kun whapped him back, and the discussion was momentarily tabled while the two boys scuffled like a pair of puppies beneath the playhouse.  Conan sighed, rubbing his temples; he had a headache that felt almost larger than his head.  "Are you two listening at all?  This is SERIOUS."

Ayumi plaited a handful of Rin's long hair, concentrating.  "We know, Conan-kun; really, we do."  From behind Rin's head her young eyes looked at him thoughtfully.  "You worry too much; we'll be careful, won't we?  Genta-kun?  Mitsuhiko-kun?"

The two playground warriors paused in their scuffle, fists clutching each other's clothing and dirt on their faces.  "'Course we will.  Aren't we always?"  Mitsuhiko picked himself up from the ground, his rather spiky hair waving wildly at the world.  "Just because we're kids doesn't mean we're _stupid,_ you know…"  Genta grunted in agreement and scooted back a little to give his friend room, their disagreement instantly forgotten just like a thousand others before it had been.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"I wish I knew if they really understood," muttered Conan _sotto voce as he and Rin trailed behind Rita-kun and the rest, wandering across the park towards their bus-stop.  "And I wish I could be sure they won't do anything stupid at the first sight of a black trenchcoat."  He shoved at his glasses; today they had been particularly irksome about sliding down his nose.  "But most of all," he finished sourly, "I wish I knew _what_ the hell Vodka and those other two were doing in the park."_

Rin glanced at him sympathetically; her face was dusty and her hair had begun to come loose from its braids (she tended to play hard, as if trying to catch up with his one-year lead in their shared second childhood).  "Ayumi-kun's right, you know:  you DO worry too much.  Look, you can't watch them every minute, can you?  You're just going to have to trust to their good sense….."  Her voice trailed away at his somewhat dubious stare and she wrinkled her nose at him, sticking out a tongue.  "Oh, come on, Shinichi—they're NOT idiots, and they've seen enough at this point to be a little more careful than most kids.  Didn't you tell me a while back that sometimes kids are brighter than adults?  Self-preservation, I think you said."  He still looked dubious, and she sighed.  "Well, you've warned them; what else can you do?  At least now they know what to look out for."

He sighed as well, reluctantly conceding that she was probably right.  "And Ayumi-kun didn't spill our secret to the other two; thought for a minute there our gooses were cooked but good."  He kicked at a pebble, sending it rolling as he glanced up; a little ways ahead the little girl in question was practicing her juggling again, occasionally dropping a stone or two (she had explained that it was a lot harder to juggle while you walked) and scooping it up before starting again.  _*She really IS getting pretty good at that; I just wish she had a different teacher…..*_

As if she had felt his eyes on her, Ayumi glanced up and smiled at him; catching her stones neatly in one hand and tucking them into her right pocket, she dropped back a little to wait for he and Rin.  "Hey, Conan-kun?  Want to see a magic trick?"

_*Huh?*  "_Uhhh, sure…"  He blinked at her a little uncertainly.  She grinned at him, a little smirk that looked slightly un-Ayumi-like but oddly familiar on her face as she held up her empty hands in display.  "What kind of magic trick?"

_*This can NOT end well, considering who she's getting these tricks from….. and why does that little smile look so—so unsettling?*_  He had deep forebodings.  Ayumi continued to grin.  "A _good one.  Nothing in my hands, right, Conan-kun?  Nothing up my sleeves?"_

"You're not *wearing* sleeves," he pointed out; beside him Rin giggled.

"That's not the point," Ayumi informed her friend loftily.  Then she reached towards him, her fingers brushing his ear.  "If I had sleeves, I wouldn't have anything hidden in them anyway… but YOU'VE got something hidden on you—"  And she held out her right hand again; this time a slightly grubby piece of wrapped candy lay in her palm.  "Look what I found in your ear!"

He did his best to be a good audience, as expected; anything else would have disappointed her.  "That was in my EAR?  No way!  You made it appear out of thin air…"  Rin giggled again, and he took the candy from his friend's hand.  "Thanks, Ayumi-kun."  Conan gave her a slightly lopsided smile.  "Next time I'll make sure I wash my ears better when I get up."

His young friend laughed, falling in beside him as they continued walking.  "You'd better—I might find something *else* in there, something icky.  And _then Rin wouldn't want to sit by you at school because you'd have ear boogers….."_

He raised an eyebrow, amused and more than a little appalled_.  "EAR boogers?!?"  *Where the hell did she come up with THAT one?*  Rin was convulsed with laughter by now, hugging her stomach as she walked._

Ayumi gave a pleased nod, grinning even more.  "Ear boogers."

"Who taught you THAT?"  He had a nasty suspicion.  "Was it--?"  Conan looked at her inquiringly, a sinking feeling in his stomach.  

The gradeschooler nodded emphatically.  "Bingo!" she sang out, and he realized suddenly why her smirk had looked so familiar:  she had borrowed it from her teacher.  _*Oh, WONDERFUL.  She'd better not learn any more of his bad habits.*  But now the grin was faltering a little, and her eyes held sympathy as well as merriment.  "Are you… better now, Conan-kun?  Not so scared anymore?  You had me sort of worried earlier….."_

The former Kudo Shinichi ducked his head, flushing a little at this.  "Uh, yeah.  Thanks, Ayumi-kun; thanks a lot.  I _*do*_ feel better—and as long as everybody's careful about—about keeping away from the bad guys, then—"

She nodded in understanding.  "We will be.  We _said_ we would, didn't we?  And we're your friends; friends tell the truth to each other….."  Ayumi shot him and Rin a look that was terribly *knowing* for such a young girl.

And _then, much to his astonishment, she reached over and snatched his glasses right off his face; popping them onto her own nose she pushed them into place with one finger, put her hands on her hips, tilted her head to one side just a little and (with a lopsided smile remarkably like his own) proclaimed in a _VERY_ Conan-ish voice:_

"…..after all, there's _ONLY ONE TRUTH."_

He stared, jaw dropping; Rin sat down flat on the ground right where she was, speechless and incapable of walking due to sheer hilarity.  Ayumi also dissolved into a fit of giggles, and the next few minutes were filled with the laughter of several very good friends.

_*Kid?  I'll **get** you for this.*_

********************************************************************************************************

Kuroba Kaito took a deep, deep breath full of as much apprehension as oxygen; in fact, if there were such things as apprehension molecules, he probably would have been in the process of passing out due to their crowding the air in the room out.

_*You're a big boy now; you can do this.  You can DO this.  C'mon, you weeny, pick up the phone and call your mom.  What can she do, ground you for life?*  He_ pictured Nakamori reading a note that read 'Sorry, Nakamori-san, I can't do any more heists; I've been sent to my room by my mother until I turn twenty-one.'  _*He'd blow a gasket.*  _

_*…and speaking of blowing a gasket…..*  Kaito_ stared at the telephone as if waiting for it to bite him.

From up the stairs Aoko's voice called down:  "Did you call her yet?"  She had volunteered to neaten up their bedrooms if he would take care of the breakfast dishes, which he had just finished.

"Uh… no, not yet….."  He tried to think of a good reason to prevaricate further, other than avoiding being yelled at; a disapproving silence from the second floor was followed by the thumps of Aoko's footsteps on the wooden floor.  She peered around the upstairs doorjamb at him, scowling, and gestured threateningly at him with the pillow that she was holding in one hand; Kaito grimaced in reply, then heaved a reluctant sigh and picked up the receiver.  _*Might as well get this over with before Aoko decides to feed me that pillow.*_

A few rings later and he was talking to his Aunt Makoto—not really an aunt per se; actually the woman was something like a second or third cousin to his mother, but they had known each other forever, so…..  "—I'm doing just great, Auntie; school's going fine, and I--  Uh, a girlfriend?..........  H-heh, welllllll……..  Um, I've been awfully busy with schoolwork to--  Right, right."  He rolled his eyes; he had almost forgotten just what kind of conversationalist his aunt was.  _*A voice like a foghorn, a memory like an elephant's, and the cross-examination skills of a member of the Spanish Inquisition.  But she's got a good heart, or so Mom says.*_

_"No,_ Aunt Makoto, everything's okay here at home; I just wanted to pass along a couple of messages to Mom……….. what?.........  Oh; oh, that's good—I know she likes visiting her old friends; uhhh…….. really?  Great."  Natter, natter, natter, natter, with an accompanying list of names he half-vaguely recalled from past conversations with his mother; apparently the two women had been touching base with old school buddies over the last week or so.  _*If Auntie's doing the driving, God help all the motorists of Japan.*  Kaito_ winced; he had vivid memories of his last ride in his Obaa-san's car.  It had been enough to make a person foster a fervent belief in luck, just so that _*something*_ was around to give you a possible chance at survival.

"Is Mom there--?  Oh, good…… Yes, I'll hold, love you too, Auntie Makoto, seeya later........"  He waited, twisting and retwisting the phone-cord through the fingers of one hand.  _*This is gonna be an interesting phone call; I've been putting this off for ages, which really was sort of stupid, I admit.  But how do you deal with explaining to your mom that not only do you know about your dad's 'night job' but that you're growing up to be just LIKE him?*_

He fidgeted.  Somewhere along the line of the wait a deck of cards appeared in his hands, and he laid off tormenting the phone cord in lieu of shuffling them back and forth, absentmindedly lining them up in a succession of winning poker hands.  _*Full House… Royal Flush… Dead Man's Hand… Gunshot Straight… Five of a Kind… Wild Royal…..  C'mon Mom, here I went and nerved myself up to call you and you're making me WAIT?!?  Eheh… guess I could call back later, MUCH later--*_

_"Hello?  Kaito?"_  Oh well; so much for *that* idea.  The tinny voice on the other end of the line sounded concerned.  _"Is everything alright?"_

He temporized.  "Yeah…. Well, _mostly it's alright.  Sort of.  Mostly sort of.  Ummm…………  Mom?  There's—something we need to discuss.  But first, how long were you planning to stay with Aunt Makoto?"  __*Oh jeeze, this is NOT gonna be easy.*_

_"Another three or four days… why?"__  Great; now she sounded really concerned.  __*Way to go, Thief Boy.  Screw this up and she'll be home on the next train, which you do NOT want; so talk fast.*  Kaito gritted his teeth and continued._

"Do you… think you could stay for a few more?  Maybe a week or so, or, uhhh… and it might be a good thing for you and Auntie to travel around a bit, you know?  Go stay in some hotels out of town, see the sights, maybe go someplace you've never been before…"  He tried to keep his voice nonchalant, but underneath everything Kaito could feel the little bubble of fear trying to break through to the surface; he was desperately afraid that if his mother came back home she would be in trouble.  It wasn't that he really thought anybody was after him in his "civilian" identity—aside from Jii, Aoko and Ayumi, who knew he was Kaitou Kid, after all?—but ever since the night before he had had this niggling little barb of pure, unadulterated _*worry*_ prodding him every time he thought about his mother.

_*She needs to stay away, just long enough for me to make sure things are safe.  That's all—it's just a precaution.  I mean, while I'm Kuroba Kaito I should be safe and all that, and so should she….. but……  Ah, hell.  Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're NOT out to get you.  OR your mom.  And I'm the king of paranoia these days.  Well, maybe the prince; Kudo might actually surpass me on the Nervous Jitters Richter Scale, which is no big surprise when you think about it.*_

His mom was talking again, her voice sliding into the "Commando Mom Interrogation Mode" that he had been dreading.  _"Kaito?__  I think you had better explain.  Right now, please.  I'm waiting….."_

Eeergh.  When she got THAT tone in her voice, it was time to lay all the cards on the table.

_*Deep breath.  Okay, go for it.*_

"Mom?"  Kaito swallowed the nervous lump that seemed to have taken up residence in his throat; it was hard to talk around it.  "Mom, I… know.  About Dad, I mean."  _*There.  You've started.  Now finish it.*_

_"---What… what do you mean, Kaito?"_  Kuroba Hikarue suddenly sounded very wary.

Her son sighed.  "Mom, I really do know.  About Dad, about what he used to do—who he used to BE.  And… and I know *you* know about *me* knowing.  We just haven't talked about it, ever."  He laughed a little desperately, hoping like hell that the pause on the other end of the line wasn't his mother having a heart attack or something of the sort.  "We live in the same house—how COULD you miss what I've been doing all this past year or so?  You're no idiot."

Silence, deep enough to bury a body in.  Kaito drew a shaky breath and continued on.

"I don't know if you've talked to, to Jii lately—you know him, though, don't you?  He always clams up when I mention your name—or if you've stayed out of things completely.  Doesn't matter, really.  I just…. ummm …..  well…..  See, there's been some trouble lately, and I don't want it to slosh over onto you.  It—"

_"Trouble?"_  His mother's obvious alarm broke through her guarded silence.  _"Kaito, what KIND of trouble?"  An indrawn breath from the other party made him blink; he had expected her to yell, not get frightened.  _"You're not—you haven't been… **caught**… have you?"__

Her son laughed a startled laugh, feeling just a bit weak in the knees.  He sat down on an overstuffed chair, hugging a pillow unconsciously to him; behind him he could hear Aoko thumping down the stairs and walking into the room, where she paused in the doorway and listened.  "NO, Mom, I haven't—I'm calling you from home, *not* from jail."  He closed his eyes in relief, feeling somewhat better; she wasn't yelling at him!  "But… Mom, there're these guys that've been showing up lately when I've been—uh, _busy—_and I'm pretty certain that they're the ones responsible for Dad's death.  They wear black most of the time, and they're after this gemstone called the Pandora Gem and—um, Mom?  Mom, are you there?  Hey, Mom?!?"  From the other end of the conversation had come a distinct _*CLUNK!*_ as if someone had dropped their receiver.

Scrabbling noises brought his mother back onto the phone line.  _"I… I'm fine, I'm here—Kaito.  Kaito, LISTEN to me.  You've got to leave—you've got to get away, as far away as possible, and you've got to go RIGHT NOW.  No arguments—just grab some clothes and go; there's some spare cash in my jewelry box upstairs, use that for a train-ticket.  I don't want you involved with—"_

"Mom, it's too *late* for that!"  He swallowed hard; she didn't sound frightened, she sounded terrified.  "They're already after me, and they're after Nakamori-san too—you know, Aoko's dad?  He bit off a bit more than he could chew and now he's a target as well—and I can't leave Aoko, anyway."  Kaito took another deep breath, his fingers twisting the phone cord again unconsciously.  Behind him he heard Aoko step quietly forward, leaning the broom in her hands against the back of the couch; her hands came down to rest very gently on his shoulders in a touch so light he could scarcely feel it.  Gratefully he reached up to brush her fingers briefly with his; she sat the half-full glass of ice and cold water she was holding in that hand down on the table beside him, leaning just a little.

_"But—but Kaito, you—Kaito, you don't know what you're getting into!!"_  His mother's voice was thick with anguish; was she crying?  God, he hoped not.  _"Those men, the ones in black….. **Yes, I've known what you were doing; long ago your father made me promise that I wouldn't interfere when you—when you started—"  She broke off, tears clogging the words.  **__"I always knew that when you found out you'd… follow in your father's footsteps, just like he followed in his father's; you're so much like him, Kaito, SO much like him that you wouldn't believe it.  So… when you—when you began going out at night… like he used to… I didn't say anything.  I had made a promise and I had to keep it; I had to trust you, just like I trusted my husband.  But Kaito—"_

He listened, heart beating hard.

_"Kaito, he always thought he'd be *here* to train you!  He thought he'd be right alongside you, teaching you and—and he's not; yes, I have spoken to Jii now and then, and he's told me, just a little.  Just enough to know that you're everything your father ever hoped you would be—everything that I always *knew* you could be."_  There was a strange note in his mother's voice then, one he had never thought to hear:

Pride.

She was _proud of him, of what he was doing and what he had done.  She was proud that her son was the Kaitou Kid.  And in that moment Kuroba Kaito felt his heart turn clean over in his chest, felt some strained, fragile place that he had been afraid to test or touch during his career as the Phantom Thief give a twinge and begin to mend.  _His mother was not ashamed of him.__

And _that felt like…_

No-one who ever had parents worthy of being loved is ever really past wanting approval from them; no-one.  And hearing his mother tell him that she was *proud* of what he had done (when, secretly, he'd wondered if she would be _ashamed_ of it) was like being given a ticket out of Purgatory.  Her son felt a little dizzy, a little giddy; _*Do not pass Go, do not go to Jail—you WIN, Thief Boy!*_

_"But… Kaito?"_

He paused in his mental high-fiving of himself; her tone had changed.  _*Uh oh.*_

_"…You really should have told me, you know.  What did you think I was going to do, send you to your room?"_  His mother's chagrined reproach was quite clearly audible over the receiver, and behind him Kaito heard Aoko stifle a snort of amusement.

"Um, well…" he temporized, wondering why it hadn't occurred to him that she could read minds.  After all, she WAS his mother; mothers did that.  "I didn't want to get you mixed up in it—I mean, I knew there was no way you could've been married to Dad and not known about _*him,*_ but…  Mom?  I just didn't want you to worry.  It seems sort of stupid now—obviously you were going to worry whether I talked to you or not, but I guess I just didn't think about that at the time."  Kaito knew his tone was becoming increasingly sheepish, but somehow this conversation had him reduced to about a twelve-year-old level.  How *DID* she manage to do that?  It had to be another of those 'mom' skills, like the mind-reading.  "And besides, I didn't know how much you had been involved in Dad's, uh, activities….."

Across the miles he heard his mother give a familiar, almost exasperated sigh; it broke through her fears for a moment, making her sound much more like the woman who had raised him.  _"Kaito, I knew everything there was to know about what he did—and if you've looked into my own family's history any at all, you'll understand why it didn't bother me too much."  She was silent for a second or so.  _"Some of us have skeletons in our family closets… but then, some of us don't mind having them.  One family's shame is another family's treasured secret… and if there's one thing I'm sure of,"_ and he could swear that she was almost smiling on the other end of the line for a bare moment, _"it's that nothing you could do would **ever** be something that either I or your father would be ashamed of.  Your ancestors either, Kaito; Jii told me exactly why you're doing what you're doing, and… while I may worry like a mother always will, I was also a kaitou's wife for many years.  I understand, even if I'm afraid for you."__

That was the sort of thing that was hard to answer, especially considering the Daihatsu-sized lump that had taken up residence in his throat.  Aoko was silent; leaning forward a little, she rested her chin on top of his head and listened quietly.  On the table the melting ice clinked quietly in its glass.

_"Now,"_ continued his mother, clearing her throat a little tremulously as the fear and worry seeped back, _"Now that we've gotten *that* out of the way, you need to get to safety.  Those men you're having problems with--  Kaito, I *do* know about them, and I don't want any arguments out of you here; I want you to go upstairs and take the money I just mentioned, buy a train ticket and… there's a place I'd like you to go, someone I want you to visit.  A relative; you've never met him, but—"_

"Mom….."  Her son hesitated, chewing on his lip.  "There's—well, there's something I need to tell you.  Something *else,* I mean."

_"—what?"_

He felt Aoko shift slightly, and her hands tightened just the tiniest bit on his shoulders; she knew what he was about to say.  "Um.  This is a little hard to explain, so….. please bear with me.  See, lots of things have happened in the last few days, and….."

There was an unnerved, stifled sort of sound on the other end of the phoneline.  _"Kaito……"_  Great; she was getting scared again.

"Okay.  Uh, how would you feel about—about somebody _outside the family knowing about me and about Dad?"  He winced and braced himself; this was the hard part, really.  _*Urk!  Hey—wonder who it is she wants me to visit?  Thought I had met all my relatives… which side of the family are we talking about, anyway?  I mean, both sets of grandparents have been dead for years, there's only Aunt Makoto left on her side, I don't have a single cousin that I've ever heard of, so--?*__

_*--Mom's being awfully quiet, isn't she--?*_

_*….. yeah; she sure is.  I suspect I've just dug myself a deep, deep hole.  Hope I'm tall enough to boost Aoko out of it…..*_

After a very, very long moment, Kuroba Hikarue spoke to her son in a careful little voice that quivered with iron control.  _"Kaito._  Kaito.  One thing we do NOT do in this family is bring in outsiders, not unless we're either in debt to them for our lives or we intend to marry them. Or both.   That's a cardinal rule, and… the ramifications of telling an outsider are….."_  She paused, obviously thinking hard.  Then she continued on in tones of dread:__  "Who is it?  No stalling, please, not this time.  Who?"_

He swallowed hard; Aoko's hands clenched in his t-shirt.  "Uh, it's Aoko."

Really BIG silence.

His mother's voice had the most peculiar sound to it.  _"You… told Aoko,"_ she said slowly, a bizarre mixture of emotions supplanting the fear that had lurked in her words before.  _"You told the daughter of the man in charge of the Kaitou Kid Task Force your secret?  AND your father's?  ……. Kaito…….. if there isn't a very, *very* good reason for this, then your uncle is going to—dear God, I don't know what he'll do.  I—"  She broke off, chopping the sentence short as if with an axe._

_*Uncle?  I have an uncle?  I thought all my relatives except Mom and Auntie Makoto were dead—and what the HELL does my uncle (whoever he is) have to do with the family secrets?*_  

"Mom?  Mom, are you okay?  Look," he said a little desperately; "I sort of HAD to tell Aoko—I mean, she found out by accident in a way, but she—Mom, she—you said something about the family not bringing in outsiders unless we're in debt to 'em, right?  Mom, I got hurt, and Aoko helped save me.  If she hadn't helped me, I'd—well, I'd be a lot worse off than I am now.  She bandaged me up, got me home safe—"

The woman on the other end of the line snapped back into the conversation as if on a rubber band.  _"Hurt?  Kaito, what happened, are you alright?  Those men, they didn't…?"_

_*Ah, crap.*  "_No, no," he said quickly and soothingly.  "No, I'm okay.  And… errrr, Mom?  Has anybody in either side of the family ever—well, ever been _really good_ at healing fast?  I mean, like _supernaturally good?"_

_*Maybe it wasn't the Gem after all; maybe it's just me, and I sort of rubbed off onto Aoko…..?"_

Puzzlement and confusion warred in Kuroba Hikarue's voice.  _"No, not that I've ever heard of.__  Why?  And are you SURE you're all right now?  I can come straight home—"_

He sighed; so much for the 'rubbing off' idea; they'd have to face the little matter of whatever screwball thing the Gem had done to them sooner or later, but… preferably later.  _Much later.  "UH-uh.  Please, Mom, the last thing I want you to do is come home right now."  On that he was firm; he had to be.  Phantom Thieves were not allowed to yell for their mommies, no matter how appealing the idea might sound—   "Lemmee check things out around here a bit first, okay?  I'm fine now, we're BOTH fine.  Aoko's cool with my secret" (the hands on his shoulders tightened again and Kaito bit back a slight yelp) "—or mostly cool, anyway.  You know how she looked up to Dad when we were little…  Don't worry about her; we can trust her. " (The hands relaxed again, and he reached back up without looking to tug lightly at a strand of Aoko's wild hair that was tickling his ear.)_

The silence on the other end of the conversation seemed to convey both doubt and worry; Kaito pressed on.  "Mom, you always said to trust your instincts; and Dad—Dad always said that it never hurt to bet on a sure thing, right?  Well, this is a sure thing.  She _won't betray us."_

_*Not yet.  And even when she DOES tell, I can't see it as a betrayal, not at all.  I don't know what'll happen, but somehow I believe it'll turn out alright.  Guess I'm just stupid that way, but I really do believe that somehow it'll be okay.  We just have to trust her, the way I've always trusted her since we were little kids together in front of the Clock Tower.  It sounds hokey but my gut says it's okay… and so does my heart.*_

_*…and besides, well, it's too late NOW…..  Don't think I'll mention that to Mom, though.  And I don't think I'll tell her about 'Yumi-chan or Kudo or Kudo's girlfriend just yet either; I'd rather not be an orphan before I have to be, thank you very much.*_

After that he conversation went quite a ways further into detail; Kuroba Hikarue was a very intelligent woman, and by the end of it her son felt like he had been dragged through a hedge backwards.  _*Jeeeeeeze, Mom….. it's a good thing Jii checks the phone lines regularly for taps, just in case; if anybody HAD been listening, they'd know everything about me, Aoko, the bad guys and their imaginary friend.  I think Jii's being paranoid, but… what was I thinking earlier, that just because you're paranoid, et cetera, et cetera?*_

Aoko had settled a little further down by now, leaning against him from behind with her arms folded so that her chin rested half on her clasped hands and half on his shoulder.   She was awfully quiet; Kaito was beginning to become wary of quiet women, so he reached back with his free hand and poked her gently.  "Hey, Aoko?  You falling asleep back there?" he muttered out of one side of his mouth as his mother began yet another attempt to prod him into leaving his house.

"No, silly, I'm listening," she said softly.  Her voice was ever-so-slightly nervous, and Kaito sighed to himself.  _*Great; now SHE'S scared.  So long as the baddies don't know I'm Kid we have nothing to worry about.  Why am I the only one who sees this?*_

_*Then again, if I'm so sure we're safe, why am I arguing so hard with Mom for her to stay out of town just a bit longer?*_

He shrugged mentally and went back to his conversation, fighting off feelings of uneasy foreboding.

At last his mother calmed enough that a compromise was reached.  Kaito would contact her every morning and evening via his Aunt Makoto's cellphone, _she_ would do a bit of traveling…..

….. and Jii would be on the next train home.  Kaito grimaced, wondering just how Jii would react to Aoko's being in on the whole secret identity thing.  _*He'll probably play matchmaker….. which, now that I think about it, might not be such a bad thing…..*  Kaito felt his eyebrows rise ever so slightly, a grin trying to steal out onto his face.  _*'Course, we may just be a step or two ahead of him there…..*__

_*….. then again, he might decide to turn tail and play chaperone instead, which would be a MAJOR bummer; you just never know with Jii.*_

Promising faithfully to keep in touch, be careful, stay away from men in black trenchcoats and eat his vegetables, Kaito at last ended the long conversation.  The young magician sighed a long, long sigh of relief; all in all, the conversation could have gone much worse…..

He had been dreading it for so long; why?  Granted, it had been hard… but so was avoiding his mother's eyes every morning when she read the latest write-up on Kaitou Kid's heists in the newspaper (her little habit of reading interesting articles out loud had nearly made him bite right through a chopstick more than once).  Shaking himself mentally, her son reached over and picked up Aoko's half-full glass, finishing the contents in a single gulp.  She was still sort of draped across his shoulders—not that he minded.  "Aoko?  You okay?"

"Mmhmm.  Just…. thinking.  Worrying, I guess.  Kaito?  What if those men that shot you *do* know who you are?  They'll come looking for us, won't they?"  He could feel her shift restlessly behind him.

"Aokoooo…. Not YOU too.  C'mon—believe me, we're *safe!*  Well, except for Kudo and company, and I'll deal with him later.  Think I'll pay him a visit tonight and have a little chat —that ought to rattle his cage a bit.  Aoko, we'll be _fine—Look, if anybody tries to break in or anything I'll hold 'em at bay with bad jokes while you beat 'em to death with your mop, okay?"  He laughed, trying to defuse the tension present in her face as his friend stood up, picking up her broom as she went._

She raised one eyebrow, gesturing with what she held.  "Broom, not mop," she growled.  "And your jokes would be enough to do them in; you wouldn't need MY help."

_*Better, better.  That sounds more like my Aoko.  And now, a few finishing touches…..*_  

Kaito chuckled, leaning over sideways until his head rested on the arm of the chair, the glass full of ice resting on his chest.  "Riiiiiiight.  WHO nearly choked to death on her lunch the other day at school when I told you the one about the chicken, the sheep costume, the Scotsman and the pair of pantyhose, hmmmmm?  Well?  Even Hakuba-kun was laughing at THAT one…  And what about the dissolving pencil trick I pulled on Keiko last Wednesday? and the joke I told your dad about the squid and Mahatma Ghandi?  He laughed so hard he almost swallowed his moustache…"

Aoko merely stuck her tongue out at him, glowering just a bit; but the hint of a smile was hiding behind the glower like the sun behind a thundercloud.

_*She just needs one more little push and she'll be out of that funk of hers; I hate to see her worry…..  Oh, WHAT the hell.  Remember the Kaitou Kid Motto:  "He Who Hesitates Is Toast!"  'Sides, I could use a workout myself----*_

And with that the son of Kuroba Toichi carefully judged his aim, his distance, Aoko's relative position and the aerodynamic qualities of an airborne ice-cube; he calculated velocity and angle….. and with great deliberation tossed one _up_ and _backwards_ over his and Aoko's shoulder as she turned away, depositing it neatly down the front of her shirt.

"AAAAACK!!!"

Simultaneously swearing vociferously and attempting to remove the chunk of frozen water from her bra, Aoko dove for the young thief as if jet-propelled; Kaito sprang to his feet, already ducking as Aoko's broom skimmed his skull with a _**swoosh!** of bristles.  "Too slow as usual—c'mon, what's the matter, cat got your tongue?"  He jerked to one side as the business end of the broom thwapped against the wall just past his shoulder, accompanied with a particularly pithy little observation; "Whew—if the cat heard THAT, it'd leave your tongue alone_WHOOPS___!!"  At her growled reply and fast attack he fell backwards into a handspring, newly-knit muscles moving effortlessly and without pain._

"Hey, Aoko—" Kaito bounced from the floor onto a sofa cusion, narrowly avoiding a swat; "—didja ever hear about the teacher, the cop and the thief that all died and went to Heaven?"  He flipped over the back of the couch and then scuttled across the floor, beaming from ear to ear:  it felt REALLY good to move without hurting again!  "They got told by an angel that they'd each have to answer a question, and if they answered it—" he ducked a near-miss; "—they'd be allowed in.  The teacher was asked 'What famous ship was sunk by an iceberg?' and she said 'The Titanic', so she was let in.  The cop was asked 'How many people died on the Titanic' and after a couple of hours scratching his head—"  _*_*WHAP!**_  Another near-miss.  "—he said 'Fifteen hundred' and was allowed in too.  And THEN—"  _

As a lamp teetered on the edge of an end-table, Kaito scooped it up and lobbed it towards Aoko, aiming carefully; she caught it automatically in one arm, setting it down and leaping after him with a growl.   "—and then what?  The thief screwed up, right?"  She charged him, eyes on fire with furious laughter.

_*Just look at her.  She's so pretty when she's lit up like this, like the fuse on a stick of dynamite!*  "_—and THEN the angel looked at the thief and said 'Okay; name them all!'"  He popped up on the other side of the coffee table like a rabbit from a hole, grinning like a fool.

The Inspector's daughter glared at him, panting, broom at the ready; her hair was in her eyes and her chest was going up and down in a way that was _distinctly distracting.  "And he got kicked out, right?  Just like I said!"_

Kaito laughed in triumph, wickedness gleaming in his eyes.  "No, no, that's the joke; see, the thief had already picked the angel's pocket and stolen the key to the Pearly Gates, so it didn't really _matter_ if he knew 'em or not….."

"Aaaaargh!  @#$%!!"

"Temper, temper, Aoko-chan….."

_**swing-WHACK!!!**_

He grinned at her in encouragement as he did a little jig across the coffee table, bare feet soundless on the wood.  "Try again, you're getting closer…"  _*__*WHACKAWHACKA!!!**  "Ooh, missed me by a whisker!  C'monnnnnn, you can do better than that—"_

They chased each other across, around, over and through the room, clattering from wall to wall and from couch to chair to table to floor and back again, Kaito's laughting taunts mixing with the cursing of the Inspector's daughter in the way it had for so long that it was now second nature for them both.  It made a peculiar, familiar kind of music, sweeping away the morning's stress and tension with its rhythm and emphasis, and they only halted at last when Aoko was speechless with exhaustion and wringing wet with sweat.

* * *

_*@#$%!!*  Too_ tired to curse him aloud (and not meaning a word of it really, now that the ice-cube had melted), Aoko gasped for breath and propped herself up with her weapon.

"WHOOOF!!!"  Kaito flopped bonelessly onto the floor, hair straying into his eyes as usual.  "Guess we're 'bout as healed up as we're gonna get, aren't we?  Good workout."  He laughed, blowing an errant strand aside where it crossed his nose.  "If anybody ever decides to set up a dojo for teaching Household Fu, they'll take you on as head shishou in a heartbeat."  His eyes twinkled up at hers through his shaggy bangs where she struggled to catch her breath just inside the door.  "Just think….. there you'd be, your adoring students all gathered at your feet while you explained the merits of mops and brooms and how to kill a man with three pieces of lint and a Dust-Buster….."

At his quip she swatted at him half-heartedly but missed as Kaito flattened beneath the broom's bristles.  Aoko wiped at her forehead, winded but laughing breathlessly.  "You—" (pant) "—you—" (gasp, pant)  "—did that deliberately," (pant, pant) _"didn't_ you?"

The young thief grinned at her fondly from his place on the floor, only one eye visible.  "Yep.  Figured you needed to blow off some steam… and it didn't do _me_ any harm either."  He spread his arms above his head, stretching like a cat and yawning; his eyes closed as his face relaxed, lines that she had barely noticed before softening at their corners.  Aoko allowed her broom to slide against the end-table and joined him on the rug, her back against the couch and her legs crossed loosely.  They sat so close together that his hair tickled her ankles from where his head lay just beyond her feet.

She wiped away a bead of sweat, her muscles relaxing; after the activity of a moment before, it felt so _good_ just to sit here, watching Kaito…..  A pulse beat at the base of her friend's throat beneath the smooth skin; his eyes were closed, and from her vantage point directly behind his head she could see how thick and dark his hair was, springing in wild disarray.  An impulse (the same one that had sent her after him with her broom? Maybe) made her reach out, and before she knew what she was doing her fingers threaded lightly through the tangled strands, smoothing them.

Kaito's eyelids quivered for a second as if they would open; but then he lay as still and relaxed as before as Aoko's hands gently, slowly stroked his hair back from his forehead.  She couldn't quite say how or why she had started doing that, but somehow it seemed to be a good idea.  Some things just didn't need to be overanalyzed.

Like this moment, for instance; impulses could be a good thing.  They had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with the boy in front of her, the boy she had known most of her life… everything to do with how his breathing seemed to catch slightly in his throat as she tucked a strand behind his ear, her finger lingering for a brief instant.  Everything to do with the way he just *let* her smooth his hair back, *trusted* her touch.

It felt… good.  Unsettling, but good.

_*Soft… his hair always looks so wild; who'd ever guess it would feel so soft?*_  It was sweat-damp and silky, refusing to lay neatly no matter how much her fingers tried to tame it into submission; she liked that.  It was a very Kaito kind of thing.

She liked the way he looked right now, too, all loose-limbed and quiet (how often was he quiet with anybody else?  Hardly ever), his hands lying idle and open to the light; and she liked the way he felt, as her fingertip skimmed down along the edges of his face, forehead to cheekbone to jawline and around to brush feather-soft against his lips.

_*A year ago I wouldn't have done this.  A year ago I would have been sort of shocked to even THINK about doing this.*_

One hand came up then, catching hers; and he kissed her fingertips lightly, as lightly as she had touched him.  It seemed only natural to return the favor… and when she did his hand turned against her lips, sliding into her hair and drawing her down to him.

The sunlight was warm on her back—in fact, the entire *world* seemed warm and strangely slow, with Aoko's dark hair falling all around their faces like a curtain.  The only thing that felt real for a few perfect seconds was the gentle, insistent caress of Kaito's hand in her hair and the way his mouth pressed against hers, as warm as the sunlight but much sweeter.

_*Kaito…..*_  

The kiss deepened for a second, two seconds, and then they both let it go; it wasn't time yet for that, not yet.  But the potential hung in the air between them like a promise.

When she drew away, her movement came not as an interruption of the moment but as a natural sort of conclusion; still leaning forward with one palm on the floor and the other against Kaito's shoulder, she blinked dazedly down at him.  His eyelids were still closed; the pulse still beat in his throat, harder now—and a slow little smile curved his lips.

"What brought _that_ on?" he asked her quietly without opening his eyes.  "Whatever it was, I'd like to thank it."

Funny; she wasn't blushing at all.  The heat in her face felt like something else, something akin to the sunlight and the slow, steady beat of her heart.  Embarrassment had no part in it, and she smiled back unseen as she answered.  "No idea.  Me too, though."

He sighed, a long sigh full of any number of things—contentment was one of them, as were a few less comfortable emotions.  Lacing his hands behind his head he continued on, his eyes still closed.  "Soooo…  Tell me, Nakamori Aoko:  Whatcha got planned for this afternoon, hmm?"

Aoko shook her head, trying to gather her scattered wits into some semblance of order.  "Um.  I was thinking of dropping off some more things for my dad… why?  Was there something you wanted to work on?"  She cocked her head a little to one side, doing her best to banish the thoughts that kept trying to intrude regarding more practice in the fine art of kissing.

_*Stupid hormones.  Wonderful hormones.  Not NOW, hormones!*_

"Well….."  Kaito opened one eye, peering innocently through his lashes.  "You said you want to help catch the bad guys, right?  Right."  He took a deep breath, seeming to brace himself and blinked up at her with that single dark blue gaze of his.  "How would you feel about becoming an accomplice to—let's see, usually it's breaking and entering, theft—oh, and the sabotage of public and private property?"

"What?"

The thief on the floor grinned, stretching again; he cracked his knuckles behind his head.  "Wanna help me plan a heist?"

********************************************************************************************************

Inspector Nakamori Ginzo, long-time member of Tokyo's Finest, carefully closed the door to his rather seedy hotel-room behind him as soundlessly as possible.  He glanced shiftily over one shoulder as he started down the staircase, carrying his shoes in one hand and a set of purloined car-keys in the other.

_*Try to keep ME locked away all safe and secure, will they?  The hell with *that.*   Can't do my job stuck in a safe house, can't even watch @#$%!! TV, can't get to a computer—what're they trying to do, neuter me?*_  He chewed on his moustache angrily as he crept down the stairs one step at a time; the damned things creaked, and the _last thing he wanted to do was alert the officer he had left snoring in his chair back in the room._

Time had finally presented Nakamori with a prime opportunity to sneak out.  It was sort of like one of those word problems you got in math when you were about ten or eleven years old, the ones that you just KNEW meant that the teacher hated your guts:  '_Officer A and Officer B are charged with preventing Inspector C from leaving the safe house.  But Officer A has dozed off and will continue to sleep for about fifteen more minutes until inherent guilt wakes him up; and Officer B has gone down to the corner store for a newspaper.  If the trip lasts its usual length, Officer B will be gone for no more than twelve minutes and no less than eight.  How much time does this give Inspector C to get the @#$%! out of there before they notice he's gone?'_

The Inspector grinned rather nastily.  _*Heh heh.  Long enough.*  It wasn't that he wanted to get his two babysitters in trouble or anything of the sort—he just didn't want to be party to their imminent slaughter, an event with which was looming increasingly on their personal horizons if he didn't get OUT of there soon._

Nakamori did not handle boredom very well, no, not at all.

He was almost at the bottom of the stairs.  Finding the car wouldn't be a problem; officers always parked as close to a safe-house entrance as possible to allow for quick exits in case they were found out.  _*Let's see—anybody around?*  He poked his head cautiously past the peeling paint of the wall beside him; the cracked sidewalks were only occupied by debris and litter.  _*About time.  And there's the car—good, they used the old Nissan; it blends in pretty well with the neighborhood.  Three seconds to cross the street and I can get back to work.*_   With another quick scan of the area, Nakamori was off._

His hand was on the doorhandle, he was trying to fit the obvious-looking key into the keyhole when he became aware that something was wrong, terribly WRONG—

_*SHIT!!!*_

--there was something cold and hard poking him between the shoulderblades and a gruff voice was starting to say, _"DROP THE KEYS AND PUT YOUR HANDS U—aaaargh!!!"_

Reflex is an amazing thing.  One elbow BACK into the diaphragm, a reaching hand THERE as his assailant bent over with a grunt of pain; the guy didn't drop the gun, though-- _*dammit, not an amateur, then*_-- and Nakamori swore as he kicked a pair of feet out from under his attacker and stomped hard on the man's wrist as soon as he went down (you never stomped on the fingers, if you did that you were liable to get either your suspect or yourself shot at a level of an inch off the ground).  The man squawked; the gun clattered to the ground and was swiftly toed into the gutter.  Nakamori's raised foot then found a new home on the man's throat as he flipped him over with an angry hand.  _*Goddamn sneaky little-- let's see who you ARE before I give you something you won't forget—*_

_*Oh.  OH.*_

"Officer B" stared up at him pleadingly, scrabbling at the Inspector's foot with his left hand and making choking little noises like a fish out of water.  The man's eyes had nearly popped out of his skull and his nose was bleeding from his contact with the asphalt.

_*Ahhhhhh, CRAP.  Can't stomp him, then—busted, just like a rookie.  The little @#$!! Laid an ambush for me!*_   Muttering a number of complicated epithets, the Inspector hauled his croaking co-worker back to his feet.  

The door at the top of the stairs slammed open; a worried face peered down at them both as Nakamori grumblingly draped his compatriot's arm over his shoulder and began to help the stricken officer back towards the room.  "Uh… sir?" called the other man, his eyes wide.  "Is everything okay down there?  What're you… doing down… errrrrr….. never mind."  He swallowed the rest of his words as the two came limping back up the wooden steps.

Glumly Nakamori closed the door behind him with a disgusted click, wondering where they had put the First Aid kit.  As he lowered his unhappy fellow officer into one of the room's rickety chairs he sighed; _*I'll bet that goddamned Kid never has days like this.*_

********************************************************************************************************

"Kaito?"  Nakamori Aoko leaned backwards over the railing of the guestroom balcony, looking up.  "I'm ready to go, and Obunaki-keiji'll be here any minute now.  Are you _sure you don't want to come with me?"_

A tousled head appeared over the roof's edge above her; hanging upside down, her friend's face was framed by his wild hair against the early afternoon sky like a darkened sunburst.  "Nahhh…. You go on without me.  Your dad'll be glad to see you *and* the stuff you're bringing—and…"  He dropped his voice a bit, giving her a slightly crooked grin.  "Let's just say that being taken away in a squadcar from my front door is one of my recurring nightmares, okay?  So I'll pass."

She surveyed him somewhat doubtfully.  "Well, it won't be a squadcar—you don't take squadcars to safe houses, you take cars that'll blend in.  What are you _doing up there, anyway?"  Aoko tucked her bag of clothing, books and other Care-And-Feeding-of-Nakamori-Ginzo paraphernalia more securely beneath her arm as she peered up at Kaito._

The young thief waved a notebook at her in answer.  "Homework" was all he said—but his free hand quickly mimed a distinctly monocle-like circle over one eye as he flashed her a wink with the other.

The Inspector's daughter shifted uncomfortably, feeling more than a little traitorous… and distinctly uneasy.  After her initial shock at Kaito's earlier suggestion Aoko had been somewhat horrified to find herself becoming rather enthused over the entire idea of actually planning a heist.  It was, Kaito had said somewhat ironically, just like he had always suspected:  thieves and detectives were more often than not separated by nothing more than who signed the arrest warrant.  Okay, so Aoko wasn't a cop—she had the right mindset and it _*showed.*  Staring up at her friend, her thoughts drifted back an hour or two….._

* * *

_"Right," said Kaito, thumping down an armload of well-used notebooks onto the kitchen table.  "First thing you have to understand is the main difference between regular thieves and kaitous—it's a matter of priorities."_

_"Priorities?"__  She sat down, leaning forward on one elbow to read the spine-labels of the notebooks.  "'Chemistry'… 'English Language'… 'Biology'?"_

_Kaito__ snickered, straddling a chair backwards and resting his chin on his crossed arms.  "Well, what do you expect?  You want me to write 'Top Secret Heist Plans' instead?"  He grinned a rather Cheshire Cat sort of grin.  "Okay now—priorities.  See," and he cocked his head a little to one side, "a regular thief's Rule #1 is 'Don't get caught.'  For me, though, it's 'Nobody gets hurt, including Yours Truly.'  That makes my job a little more difficult, but hey—I didn't get into this business because it was easy."  He laughed again._

_Aoko eyed him like he had just failed a test entitled 'Bright Enough To Come In Out Of the Rain.'  "What?" he demanded; she rather pointedly stared at his left shoulder and he looked hurt.  "Yeah, yeah, I know… nobody's perfect, okay?"  Hurriedly he went on.  "Rule #2 for most thieves is "Get the target'—but for me it's "See Regular Thief Rule #1."_

_"'Don't get caught'?"_

_"Bingo."  Kaito beamed at her, wrapping his legs around the rungs of his chair in an improbable position; glancing down at his ankles Aoko wondered absentmindedly if a person could be triple-jointed rather than double-jointed.  His voice pulled her attention back as he continued.  "Rule #3 for most thieves is "Leave no traces behind"—no clues, nothing to show who you were.  Now for ME that's where things get really screwy; if a kaitou doesn't practically tap-dance on the heads of whoever he's stealing from—or whoever's guarding the goods—he's not doing his job."  The young thief's eyes twinkled as he pulled out a length of slightly grubby string from apparently nowhere; his thin, clever fingers knotted it into a loop and he began to thread it through all sorts of convolutions as he talked on.  "Kaitous, y'see, are above all *flashy.*  We're SUPPOSED to be noticed… at least, when we WANT to be noticed."_

_The Cat's-Cradle he was making quickly metamorphed into a Jacob's-Ladder, which climbed itself and turned into a Seesaw and then a Cup-and-Saucer; as the young magician's nimble fingers flicked loops aside and tightened tensions, the simple strands changed shape over and over again.  His friend watched, almost hypnotized by the swift movements as the Star altered and became the Butterfly, finally developing into a complicated structure that she dimly remembered being called the Setting Sun; then, with a negligent twist of a hand, the design became a simple loop that disappeared into the nothingness it had appeared from._

_In the back of her mind Nakamori Aoko recalled, briefly, that it had been Kaito's father that had taught them both how to make string figures many years past._

_Shaking the thought aside, she pushed her heavy tumble of hair back as she opened the notebook marked 'Biology;' Kaito shifted a little restlessly as if he was a little unsure whether or not she should be looking at his notes.  "Something wrong?" asked the Inspector's daughter, glancing up._

_The young man across from her shook his head.  "Nahhh… it's just sort of weird, letting somebody else look at my stuff.  I mean, even Jii doesn't go into my notebooks without asking me first."  He scratched at his head, looking embarrassed._

_On the first page a list of familiar-sounding names stared back at her; it was a detailed compendium of all past and present members of the Kaitou Kid Task force, complete with notes regarding each's physical description, height, weight, speech patterns and other physical characteristics in brief.  A rather peculiar photo (peculiar in that it looked to have been taken from the ceiling at an odd angle) was stapled to the page, notes and little arrows written on it here and there._

_"This 'Jii'… he's important to you, isn't he?  I've met him a couple of times down at that billiards hall you like, but I thought he was just some sort of family friend.  Is he related to you?"  She read down through the comments, noting with amusement that he had written in a sort of point-system as to which of the Task Force members tended to keep up with Kid the longest during a chase—and which ones ended up on the bottom of a Dogpile-the-Bandit episode._

_Kaito__ shrugged.  "Not related, no… well, as far as I *know* we're not related."  He scratched his head.  "He's never said.  Jii, now, he's really something.  The guy's forgotten more about being a kaitou than most of us ever learn… though he claims I'm pretty good at it.  He's the one who really got me started, told me about my dad and all, helped me set up contacts and test out equipment and tons of other things.  He helped my dad out all his life, and I *think* he worked with my grandfather too—but Jii's sort of closemouthed about anything before my dad, though.  Um, don't laugh when he calls me 'Young Master,' okay?  I just can NOT get him to stop doing that."  He craned his head a bit, peering at the notebook.  "Um, Aoko?  You might not be too thrilled with the next bit—"_

_Aoko raised one eyebrow and turned the page; the next one was about her father, whose photo *also* graced the bottom portion of the paper.  Kaito had thoughtfully supplied him with a little forked tail, horns and a pitchfork.  At Kaito's slightly embarrassed grunt she glanced up and stuck her tongue out at him.  He grinned unrepentantly back, looking somewhat relieved.  "Uh… heh heh…..  Sooooooo-- on with the lesson!…..  Rule #3 for me, then, is 'Make yourself conspicuous'."_

_"What, not 'Get the target'?"  Aoko's eye was caught by a carefully-written list of her father's favorite curses and epithets; she began to go through the lot, her eyes widening._

_"No, that's Rule #4.  I mean, I *want* the target, don't get me wrong—but I can always try for it again later.  Not getting anybody hurt, not getting caught AND drawing the bad guys out are the most important things.  And Rule #5 is really important:  'Always have a Plan B', just in case.  So; got that?"_

_The Inspector's daughter mentally pigeonholed a particularly pungent phrase into her memory (her dad had been keeping all the good ones for outside home use, apparently).  "I think so.  What about choosing your target?  How do you do that?  Oh—"  She remembered something then, and with a certain mental sigh (and a feeling of burning her bridges) she dug a slightly creased bit of plasticized cardboard out of her pocket.  "Here's something you might want to add to your photo collection, by the way… Ayumi took it while you were asleep yesterday."  Aoko handed the photo over and watched with anticipation for his reaction._

_She was not disappointed.  Kuroba Kaito, Phantom Thief Extraordinaire, blenched and turned several shades ranging from pasty white to a rather interesting purple at the detailed shot of himself in a somewhat bedraggled Kid outfit, sound asleep with his face showing clearly; the monocle and white hat were quite visible, as was the fluffy white kitten he had cuddled against him._

**_"eeeeeeeeeeeeeek….."_**

_"Hmmmmmm?"__  Aoko smiled to herself, a strange little tingle of relief at having handed over her last Ace fluttering somewhere around the region of her stomach.  "What?"_

_He sounded rather awestruck.  "You know….. if Hakuba-kun saw this he'd have to take a cold shower."  Kaito swallowed hard, looking a bit ill.  "--and come to think of it, so would your father, after he had his heart-attack."  Closing his eyes he slumped over the back his chair, groaning.  "'Yumi-chan…..  God, what IS it with anybody under four feet tall?  Are they *all* out to get me or what?"_

_Aoko scowled at her friend, determinedly fighting down an urge to laugh.  "You ought to be glad I gave it to you; I *COULD* have held onto it and not said a word, you know—"  She sat back in her chair, bottom lip sticking out just a little and making her look remarkably like the aforementioned Ayumi.  "If I had left it on my dad's desk it would've served you right, considering what you've put me through in these last few days," she grumbled._

_Kaito__ looked up at *her* then, his eyes taking on a slightly unnerving gleam of mischief.  "Y'know… you're absolutely right."  He considered the picture for a moment more—and then passed it almost calmly back (his hand barely shook); she took it suspiciously, wondering what the joke was.  "Why don't you keep it for me, hm?  Think of it as *insurance.*"_

_She blinked at him, then down at the picture, then back up again.  "Insurance?  What for?"_

_The Phantom Thief laughed at her once more, amusement flashing dark blue from his gaze.  "Oh, not for you—insurance for ME.  If I give you something that you know you could put me away with, *I* know you won't use it.  So I'm safe, ne?"  He smirked at her outraged look.  "I'm right, aren't I?—you KNOW I am.  Well?"_

_Aoko's__ spluttered reply made Kaito's eyes widen; carefully he reached out and drew the 'Biology' notebook back from beneath her hands, flipping further down through the pages until he came to one that was heavily filled in.  Without another word he quickly scribbled something, then closed the notebook and carefully tucked it between his body and the back of the chair, safely out of Aoko's reach._

_She scowled at him again threateningly, her temper beginning to smolder despite the odd knot that his trusting her with the photo had put in her throat.  "What was THAT all about?"_

_Kaito__ shrugged, looking innocent.  "You used a new insult—had to add it to your list.  What, you didn't think YOU weren't included in there, did you?"_

_"GIVE ME THAT!"_

_"No… no, I don't *think* so….."_

_At this point Professor Kuroba's seminar on 'Phantom Thievery 101' had to be temporarily put on hold to allow time out for an impromptu chase around the kitchen table._

* * *

.....and now she was staring up at Kaito, *knowing* that he was working on his next set of heist plans.  A lifetime of _That's__-Against-the-Law was warring with the idea of actually being involved with real, dishonest-to-God __theft somewhere in the pit of her stomach; the two did not sit easily with each other, and Aoko wondered uneasily how she was going to deal with it._

_*Later.  I'm going to deal with it later.*_   Shouldering the strap of her bag, she opened her mouth to say something—she didn't know what—

—but Kaito beat her to it.  "Aoko?"  The upside-down gaze was oddly earnest, not nearly as flippant as usual; the blue of his eyes seemed a little darker than before.  "You… uh, don't really _*have* to help me with my 'homework,' you know?  If it bothers you—"_

She smiled wryly.  "You can tell?"

"Yeah.  You look like you'd rather have dental surgery than talk about… plans."  He glanced around to make sure there were no passers-by; it looked odd, since he was still dangling his head backwards off the roof.  Then with startling abruptness he suddenly reached to either side, caught the edge, and _flipped himself forward and down to land with the lightest of thuds beside her; Aoko stepped back a little, eyes a bit wide._

_*Aaack.  Kaito—he's moving differently now around me; why?  He did that without even thinking about it, and before he wouldn't have—is it because I know he's Kid?  It's like he's dropping all sorts of masks, body-masks as well as personality-masks.  I wonder how many of them he wears?*_   The young man had moved so fluidly, so easily; and now he leaned back onto the balcony rail without a second thought.  "Look," he said gently; "When you get back, we can talk about it some more, okay?  I don't want you doing anything you'll regret later—"

Aoko shook her head, irritated with herself; what was _wrong_ with her?  "No.  I said I wanted to be involved and I *will* be."   She crossed her arms, looking rather mulish.  "It—Kaito, it's just…" and she dropped her gaze to her feet, scowling.  "I've spent my whole _*life*_ being on this side of the law," she half-whispered.  "It's going to be hard to, to do the opposite—no matter how much I need to.  I've never broken the law before, and _this is….."_

"I know."  His voice was soft, oddly ironic, and she looked back up to meet a strange little smile.  "I had to go through the same thing when I started out.  You don't just knock over all the rules without your conscience twinging more than a bit, y'know?" 

And then he chuckled at a sudden thought, reaching out and tapping her nose lightly with a forefinger.  "Hey, cheer up—if it's any help, just think of it this way:  when this is all over, *you're* gonna be the one who _*caught* me.  I mean, yeah, you'll tell your dad and all that, but—"_

Nakamori Aoko's eyes were troubled.  "I'm not sure that's much of a help."  She fiddled with the strap from her bag, twisting it and retwisting it between her fingers.

Kaito shrugged, leaning back with both elbows resting on the railing; "Heh; well, we all have our little burdens to bear.  Trust me, I'm not too thrilled with the idea of just meekly handing myself over to him *either,* Aoko…..  Right now if you asked him what he wanted to do with me, he'd just have to pick whether he'd prefer to have me stuffed and mounted inside a case in his office or just served on a platter with an apple in my mouth."  He snorted.  "I wonder which wine you'd drink with Roast Kaitou?  Red or white?"

Aoko's eyebrows went up; she started to make a rather rude reply when a discrete _**beeeeep!** sounded behind her, making the young woman jump slightly and turn.  A battered, rather nondescript car that fairly shrieked 'OFFICIAL UNDERCOVER VEHICLE' to her eyes was waiting at the curb, and inside she could see Obunaki-keiji (who she had known practically from infancy) waving.  She hesitated, looking back over her shoulder at Kaito—_

--or, rather, at where Kaito had *been.*  "See you later, Aoko," came from the rooftop as he settled himself almost soundlessly on the edge, legs dangling; how had he gotten up there so fast?  "Don't let your dad run you too ragged…"  He smiled down at her, a quirky little grin that had as much irony in it as humor.  "And don't _worry so much, will you, baka?  We'll work things out later."_

_Later._  She was back to _*later*_ again.  Well, that wasn't too bad; maybe a little breathing-space would make the war inside her stomach settle into a truce, or at least a cease-fire.  Ignoring the 'baka' comment Aoko nodded, catching up her bag a little higher on her shoulder and turning towards the outside stairs.  As she clattered down them and hurried off across the lawn, though, she could feel the touch of his gaze lingering on her skin like a caress, sympathetic and gentle.  

Somehow, even if it didn't solve the conflicts in her heart, it made them just a little easier to bear.

********************************************************************************************************

And now it _*was* later, dark outside with the evening crickets sending out their song to shrill in the cooling air.  Autumn was really showing its strength now—the day had been warm, almost hot for October, but the nights were beginning to grow chillier as the season caught hold._

As her escort watched from his rather dilapidated vehicle just past the gate, Aoko fumbled with her borrowed key.  Inside the house the lights were on, shining warm and inviting through the windows, and she could hear the distant blare of canned laughter coming from the television in the family room.  Glancing past her shoulder, she waved Obunaki-keiji a quick goodbye and slipped in through the door.

Inside, welcoming scents wafted through the air; she sniffed appreciatively, dropping her now-empty cloth bag on a chair.  _*Dinner?  I hope Kaito kept it simple and didn't get creative...*  The young magician was a fairly good cook, but every now and then he liked to get a bit experimental; as long as she lived, Aoko didn't think she would EVER forget the taste of Chocolate Miso Soup with a side-dish of Strawberry Tempura (he had gone with a dessert theme that time).  She shuddered at the memory; it hadn't exactly been BAD as such, just… unusual.  Terribly, dreadfully, tragically unusual._

Well, that was Kaito for you.  Unusual…

The Inspector's daughter poked her head around the kitchen corner inquisitively; "Tadaima," she called out.  Kaito was nowhere to be seen, but something aromatic was steaming in a wire basket in a pot and she could smell the sweet scents of hoi-sin sauce and red chili oil.  "Kaito?  Where are you?"  She wandered in, picking up the lid to the pot and peering in; _*Mmmmmm… looks like pork buns and some dim-sum; bet his mom made them and froze a batch before she left.*_  Containers of dipping-sauces sat on the counter beside the stove, explaining some of the scents; but where was Kaito?

"Mewww?"  A small, fluffy ball of white fuzz wound around her ankles, nearly tripping her as wide blue eyes blinked up innocently from floor-level.  Aoko scooped Spot up, hugging the kitten to her with a murmur of affection.  "Did you think I had forgotten you?"  She stroked the round head, scratching the pink shell-like ears until the feline purred like a pet thunderstorm.  "Where've you been all day, anyway?  Not tormenting Kaito's doves, I hope…"  Spot yawned, his tongue curling into the shape of a ladle between sharp, sharp teeth; he batted playfully at a strand of her hair as if to say _'What, me?  Hunt doves?  Perish the thought—I'm just a cute little kittycat, wouldn't hurt a fly…..'_

Not for the first time, Aoko found herself thinking that it might be a stupid idea to believe that you knew EVERYTHING going on inside the heads of nocturnal blue-eyed creatures in white.

She shook the thought off; where the hell *was* Kaito, anyway?

A noise caught her attention; speaking of doves…..  Cooing and random fluttering sounds drew her through the house towards the back door; it stood half open, and through it the Inspector's daughter could see one jeans-clad leg and a rather dirty sock, complete with an assortment of perching doves on knee and toes.  She peeked around the doorway—"Kaito?" – and began to laugh.

He looked up at her indignantly, dislodging a cooing passenger with a flutter of wings.  "Hey, they MISSED me, okay?" said the young magician rather huffily, attempting to look dignified.  "What's wrong with that?"  Every available portion of his body seemed to be occupied by a pair of pink bird-feet, supporting (of course) a white, feathered body.  The kitten in Aoko's arms made an excited involuntary movement; not wanting to be a party to wholesale avicide she held on a little tighter as she tried to control her snickers.

"You were only gone for a day," she pointed out, adjusting her grip on Spot; the kitten's eyes were fixed on the white, feathery buffet in front of him and he seemed to be remarkably slippery all of a sudden.  "How much can doves miss a person?  They're just—NO!!  SPOT, don't you DARE!!!"

The kitten had managed to squirm loose; with a single bound, he propelled himself from her arms into a furry claw-tipped projectile aimed straight at Kaito's flock-----

"AAGH!!!"

----- which exploded just short of feline impact into a shrieking, squawking cacophony of wings, panicky shapes and wind.  Feathers flew everywhere; as she blindly charged down the stairs after her cat (he let out a disappointed _"WAAAOOW!!" when scooped from the fray) for a confused second or so Aoko's vision held nothing but white.  _

Then it cleared; she blinked and looked wildly around, hanging on grimly to the struggling, complaining kitten.  Birds still fluttered and dove about the coop like terrified little hang-gliders; she ducked and swore as one screeched past her head….. but again, where the HELL was Kaito?  Nowhere in sight; it was almost as if he had just _dissolved into a cloud of doves….._

And then she felt the lightest touch on the back of her neck and spun around with a gasp.  

Kuroba Kaito was leaning against the doorjamb just behind her, arms crossed and with a little grin on his face as he took in her astonishment.  "Ready for dinner?" he asked calmly, reaching across and pulling a stray feather from her hair.  He passed it to Spot, who took it with a determined _*snap!*_ of teeth.

"Just so long as it's not chicken," she answered a bit shakily, bemused.  _*Magicians…..*_   Spot glared at him from her arms as she followed him back into the house.

* * *

A little later, Aoko was nibbling at the last of the dum-sim; she sighed with slightly overstuffed contentment.  "Oof.  I think I ate too much."  From the floor her kitten watched narrowly, the rather mangled dove-feather still resting between his paws.

Across from her Kaito yawned; "Shouldn't have had all that fast-food with your dad, then.  You said he's doing okay?"  Amused blue eyes regarded her lazily as he tilted his chair back, balancing it on two legs without effort.

The Inspector's daughter nodded.  "Bored to tears—and I *think* he tried to sneak out this afternoon; one of the two officers that were with him had his face all scuffed up and kept giving my dad these dirty looks when he thought nobody was looking."  She snorted, annoyed.  "Doesn't he understand that he has to stay there for his own good?  I mean, what if somebody tries to shoot him when he goes in to work in the morning, or when he leaves?"

Kaito sighed, taking a long swallow of his drink.  "Yeah, well… if I had to be stuck in a hotel room with, say, Hakuba-kun and Bunagi-kun for a few days _*I'd* lose it too."  Bunagi-kun was one of their less-liked sempai, a student with the annoying habit of tagging on a giggle to the end of every nervous sentence (of where there were far, far too many; Bunagi-kun was a babbler).  "And as for him staying safe… it's a good idea, but it's not foolproof; he's got to come out sooner or later, and those guys are patient."  He shifted his balance, steadying the chair minutely.  "Your dad's pretty damned smart, though—not smart enough to _catch_ me, of course, but…" and he chuckled at Aoko's half-hearted glare; "…pretty smart all the same.  When he leaves that safe house I don't think he's just gonna let himself be picked off like a nice, meek little target; hell no.  I dunno what he'll think of, but he'll think of _something."__

Aoko watched him curiously; she took a sip from her own drink, swirling the ice-cubes around.  "You like him, don't you?  I mean, even now, after… being Kid all this time?"

The young thief nodded.  "He usually gives me a good chase; that's really something, y'know—I'm not exactly the world's easiest person to keep up with.  Hakuba-kun, now, he's come closer to snagging me those few times _he was allowed to a heist, but he's not nearly as much fun to play with.  And as for Kudo… well, never mind about Kudo; he's got his own little problems."  Kaito shot her a sideways glance full of both mischief and apology—and more than a little guilt.  "I know I make your dad's blood-pressure shoot through the roof, but what else am I s'posed to do?  Let him catch me?  You already know why I do what I do….. and someday he'll understand too.  Not," he added wryly, "that I think understanding'll keep him from doing his best to strangle me when he finds out, but so it goes."_

"Mmph."  The young woman drank the last of her soda, wondering how to approach what was on her mind.  Her eyes fell on a familiar-looking stack of notebooks sitting on the sofa in the next room—she could just see them through the doorway.  "Kaito?  Did you… I mean, have you, um, thought of anything?  You said earlier that you were working on…"

He grimaced.  "…'plans', right.  Hate to tell you this, but it's not that easy.  Nobody has an online site you can go to marked 'Really Stealable Gems of Japan' or anything like that; I mean, I _DO_ have a few resources most people don't have access to, but… and maybe we should just talk about something else for a while, huh?"  Kaito gave her his most charming grin, only the slightest bit faded around the edges.  "Soooo, you ready to go back to school tomorrow?"

At that Nakamori Aoko sat her glass down, ice-cubes rattling, and leaned forward across the table to stare her friend hard in the face with her most stubborn glare.  "Kaito…..  I am *NOT* backing down from this.  I **_said_** I'd deal with it… and I will.  So QUIT it; you're not making it any better, okay?  Just quit it!  Please."

He looked away; his control on the chair he sat in wobbled just a little, and he allowed it to tilt back onto all four legs with a heavy _*click.*  "If you hadn't found out, you wouldn't be in this mess with me," the young thief said softly to the silence that settled over the room._

Aoko shook her head.  "And if I _hadn't found out, you'd either be in jail by now or maybe half-dead with infected gunshot wounds.  IN Ayumi-chan's closet, I might add."  He winced at that.  "I'm not going to try and second-guess fate, Kaito; we make our choices and then… things happen."  The Inspector's daughter sighed, rubbing at her forehead with one hand; thinking about things like this made her head ache.  "If I hadn't been waiting for my dad in front of the Clock Tower all those years ago, I never would have met you; but if you hadn't met _me….."_  The lump that had formed in her throat was making talking awfully hard.  "… if you hadn't met me… life would be a lot duller than it is, okay?  And I don't __*LIKE* dull—you must be rubbing off onto me or something.  So please stop trying to distract me and let's just—get started, please?"_

Kaito was uncharacteristically silent for a few seconds; it was beginning to unnerve Aoko when he got like that, it was so unlike him.  When he spoke again, his voice was just barely audible.  "Aoko… dammit, I don't like dragging you with me….. especially if where I'm going is _*down,* you know?"  Ice clinked in his empty glass as he placed it onto the table._

Restlessly Aoko got up from her chair, carrying her dishes towards the sink; the quiet in the kitchen was suddenly much too loud.  Pausing behind her friend's back she said very softly, warningly "Listen, please—just listen, okay, Kaito?  My dad's life is at stake here too… and you'd be surprised just how far down I'd go to make sure that he's safe.  I won't say I'll always enjoy this, or I'll always agree with you—but I *will* do what I said I'd do… and if that includes following you places I wouldn't have gone before this, well, then I'll just have to learn how to manage."   Her voice gentled just a bit.  "So stop trying to protect me."

_THAT_ made him look up swiftly, an odd expression on his face; he shook his head a little dubiously.  "Aoko….."  Then he paused, frowning and apparently thinking hard if the expression on his face was any indication.  At last he glanced back up at her where she stood by the sink.  "Alright.  **All right.  But….."**

"…but…?"  Her eyebrows rose and her knuckles tightened dangerously on the edge of her plate.

Kaito mock-ducked, a small smile coming back to his face.  "…but not right now, okay?  I've got a little chore to take care of—and some reading material for you, if you're really sure about this--?  Okay, _okay,_ put the plate down!"  He stood, scooping up his own dishes and passing them over.  "I was going to sort of hold off on the rest of the notebooks, but—go ahead and read them.  There's stuff in there you'll need to know—the kinds of tools I use, how I travel, contacts, research I've done in the past, that kind of thing.  If you're really gonna work with me on this, you need to be informed."  At her rather sour grimace, he chuckled.  "'Homework,' like I said.  EXCEPT for the 'Biology' notebook, which is *not* in that stack anymore….."  

She stuck her tongue out at him; Kaito merely raised an amused eyebrow as stepped up beside her, placing his dishes into the sink and turning on the water.  "I'll be out for a little while—I shouldn't be _too_ late."

The Inspector's daughter eyed him curiously; some of the tension left her shoulders as she reached for a dishcloth (it was her turn to do the dishes).  "Out?  Is this—you said something about 'visiting Kudo' earlier… Kudo?  Kudo Shinichi?  I remember that name from somewhere.  Some sort of detective, isn't he?  And _why are you making that horrible face?"_

Kaito leaned back against the counter, elbows resting on the sink's edge; he let out a theatrical sigh.  "'SOME sort of a detective,' yeah… you could say that," he muttered, wincing slightly.  He hesitated, obviously stalling; a warning throat-clearing from Aoko informed him that he had better elaborate on that little comment but quick..  "Let's just say that he's not exactly what you'd call one of Kaitou Kid's more _ordinary_ opponents.  If he was free to really chase after me… I might actually be in trouble.  Maybe."

"'Maybe?'"  She regarded him dubiously.

Shrug, shrug; the teenager tucked his thumbs into his pockets, tucking his head down and slouching a little.  "Okay, 'probably.'  Errrr…. *definitely,* to be really truthful.  The guy's even more stubborn than your dad and as persistent as a wasp, unbelievably intelligent, carries grudges like you wouldn't believe—It's just my good luck that he aways preferred to go after murderers instead of thieves."  He scowled for a second before a small grin found its way back onto his face, his mercurial spirits lifting at the thought of mischief.  "The *last* time I saw him he made me sweat a bit; now it's my turn."  He chuckled.

Eyeing him a little askance, Aoko began filling the sink with hot water; steam wisped slowly up, wreathing in the cooler air like delicate shreds of ghosts as she dunked a plate and reached towards the shelf below the quietly-ticking wall-meter for a scrubbing pad.  Watching, Kaito blinked.  "Hey, be careful of the pipes back there, they—"

_"OW!"_  Aoko jerked her hand back with a yelp, tears rising in her eyes.

"—get really hot—Ahhh, _crap!_  I *keep* telling Mom we need to get that fixed!"  At her exclamation he caught her hand in both of his, examining the blister that was already rising on the outside of her thumb where it had brushed against the meter's hot-water pipe.  "Shit, Aoko, I'm sorry…"  Already he was reaching to turn the tap to cold so that she could soak it and relieve the pain of her burn.  "Here, put your hand under the faucet; I'll get some stuff from the first-aid kit—"

"Wait… wait.  Kaito?  _Look….."  Aoko was staring at her own hand, eyes wide and rather shocked…_

… as the reddened blister seemed to flatten and absorb itself back into the skin; before their eyes the redness faded away until there was nothing left of the burn except their astonished faces and a memory of pain.

The whole thing, from the moment of injury to the point in which every trace had vanished, had taken no more than perhaps four seconds.  It took considerably longer for Aoko to find her voice again.  "K-kaito….. it happened _*again.*_  I thought maybe it was, was just a one-time thing—"  She ran a slightly shaky fingertip across the unmarred skin where the burn had been.  "It's still hot," she whispered.  "It's still hot from the pipe… but it doesn't hurt at _all."_  

Her fingers were still cradled in his; almost unconsciously he followed suit, tracing the clear, scarless surface with his own touch.  "Don't look at me… I've been successfully avoiding thinking about the whole weird healing thing all day," he informed her brightly, his voice only a little unsteady.  "Works just great so far!"

Aoko's shocked look turned into something of a glare, but it softened as she looked back at their linked hands; "Me too," she admitted.  It had been so much easier to focus on anything else, everything else; this was just too _weird.  And considering some of the 'something elses' that she had had to focus on, that was saying something._

Her friend's fingers tightened around hers for a second as if to protect them; and then he let her go, stepping back just a bit.  "Hang on a sec; I've got to know if—"  Kaito rummaged around in one pocket, pulling out a deck of cards; they looked ordinary enough, but Aoko noticed just the faintest gleam along the deck's sides.  

_*Those cards—they're the ones from his card-gun, the ones with the sharp edges, aren't they…?  What's he going to do with that—OH.*_

With great care, he flicked the corner of the top card (the Jack of hearts, she noted absently) against the back of his left hand; a thin red line showed immediately as the razor-keen metal sliced through Kaito's skin, allowing a single red drop to bead up, hesitate, and roll slowly down to be absorbed by the edge of his sweatshirt.  Mutely he held it under the still-running tap; the faint trickle of blood washed away instantly… to reveal nothing; no wound at all, not a scratch or a scar.

"Well."  Kaito let out a breath that held as much relief as nervousness in it.  "Guess now we know—it _*wasn't* just a one-time thing."  He turned off the tap, shaking his head as he carefully returned the deck of cards to his pocket.  "I… guess, if you had to catch something funny from a legendary mystical gem you could do a helluva lot worse than end up with speedy healing abilities.  Heh; 'weirdness germs.'  Wonder if neither of us'll catch cold in the winter from now on?"  The thief wiped his damp hand against his sweatshirt.  "It doesn't even sting now….."_

There was a trace of wonder in the words, wonder and the tiniest thread of fear, thin as a playing-card's edge.

Aoko  blinked at the comment regarding colds, vague curiosities regarding certain female monthly annoyances passing through her mind.  _*It'd be awfully nice not to have cramps any more ever again.*   Bemusedly she tried to gather her scattered thoughts.  "Uhhhh…. back to the subject.  You're going to go talk to this 'Kudo?'  Should I come along?  I can always read this stuff," and she indicated the notebooks, "when we get back—"_

Still looking down at his hand, Kaito shook his head firmly.  "Not this time.  Trust me, Aoko, I don't think you'd be too comfortable coming along with me, not… just yet."

Annoyed (and still a little unsettled; watching yourself heal up like something out of a science-fiction movie was enough to rock anybody's sensibilities), Aoko went back to scrubbing at the dinner dishes with perhaps more force than necessary.  "Why not?  If you're just going to knock on his door—"

Kaito shrugged a little, hitching a small backpack that had been lying beside his chair up onto one shoulder.  "Because I'm not *going* to knock on his door, basically; and well, because…" and he slid one hand deftly in under the backpack's flap, tugging something out into the kitchen's light; "… because I'm not exactly going as *me,* y'see."  A fold of silky, ghostly-white fabric peeped out, as pale and glimmering as a certain Phantom Thief's cloak.

The Inspector's daughter's eyes widened in comprehension.  "Oh."  She tried to keep the disapproval out of her voice; it warred with curiosity, the latter beating the former by a good margin as she reached tentatively out to smooth a pinch of the fabric between her damp fingers.  "So you're going to—"

"Yeah.  It's sort of necessary in this case."

Aoko's fingertips lingered on the soft folds, letting go only reluctantly.  "Why?  Can't you just call him on the phone or something?  I mean, do you _*have* to go and put on that stupid outfit and put yourself at risk—just to talk to somebody?"  She glowered at him, worry flickering behind the disapproval.  "And where'd __THIS come from, anyway?  I threw away the torn one—"_

Kaito looked more than a little uncomfortable; he tried to cover it with nonchalance.   "Yeah, well, you know us Phantom Thieves—'Be Prepared' and all that; I've got spares…  And it is NOT a stupid outfit; it has _style."  He ignored her snort, continuing on as one corner of his mouth quirked back up into his characteristic grin.  "As for Kudo….. like I said, I've got a bone or two to pick with him; a phone call just wouldn't make the kind of *impact* I need to make tonight.  The little brat needs to be shaken up a bit, and I prefer the hands-on approach to the long-distance version."  He secured the flap of the backpack again, hefting it into place as he headed towards the door. _

_"'Little brat?'_  I thought he was about our age—"

He snickered.  "Depends on how you look at him; depends on WHO'S looking at him, too."  At her confused scowl Kaito shook his head, still grinning but refusing to elaborate.

Aoko followed him a little wistfully, wiping her hands on a dishrag.  "Will you be very late?"

"Nahh…"  He toed on his shoes beside the front door, settling the backpack more securely on; something inside clanked softly.  "By the time I get there it'll be way past his bedtime."  At her inquisitive look he chuckled again at some private joke.  "I'll explain later, okay?  And don't worry;"  Kaito opened the front door, glancing out at the quiet night beyond.  "It's just a little visit, not a heist or anything like that.  What could go wrong?"

And with that he gave her one last wave and slipped out the door, closing it behind him.  For a long minute Aoko stared at the closed door as if looking for oracles in the wood or answers from the doorknob.  "'What could go wrong?'" she asked herself, grumbling softly (with just the smallest hint of fear beneath the grumbles); "That's what I'm afraid of finding out."

_*Be careful, Kaito.  Please.*_

Then the Inspector's daughter turned away to immerse herself in the Phantom Thief's notebooks and wait for his return.

********************************************************************************************************

Outside the wind was picking up just a little as Kuroba Kaito swung down the sidewalk, whistling quietly to himself.  His steps were hurried, moving lightly across the cement and asphalt of the streets as he headed for a bus-stop a block or so away.  If he had been less intent on his goal he might have paid more attention to the thin-faced man who emerged out of an alleyway and approached the bus-stop at about the same time.

The two glanced at one another in the way that strangers waiting for a bus will, scarcely a flicker of a look just barely long enough to be polite yet not in any way invasive; Kaito's mind was on his 'appointment,' and as for the other prospective passenger—

--he had his own concerns as well.  The thin-faced man pulled his black trenchcoat a little tighter around him against the wind, smiling slightly in an inward sort of fashion.  "Nice night, isn't it?"

"Mmph?"  Kaito blinked at him.  "Uh, yeah.  Guess it is."  

"Got a light?"  The man had pulled out a pack of cigarettes; at the younger man's headshake he shrugged, sliding them back into his pockets and leaving his hands there.  Neither said anything much after that, but the thin-faced man continued to smile to himself as if enjoying a private joke.

After a few minutes the bus arrived; Kaito hopped up the steps, then glanced behind him at the thin-faced man in the trenchcoat; he remained on the sidewalk, still smiling.  "Er—weren't you waiting for the bus?"

The man's smile widened just a bit.  "Ah, no.  Actually I'm waiting for a… friend.  But thanks."  He gave a shrug, hands still in his coat-pockets; the right one seemed to be fingering something.

"Okay, whatever.  'Night."

"Yeah," said the other man softly; "Goodnight."  The bus pulled away in a cloud of fumes and a rumble.  The thin-faced man relaxed his grip on the gun in his right pocket, then chuckled briefly to himself; his eyes reflected the tail-lights of the bus briefly, an eerie catlike flash of luminescence.  _"Goodnight, Kuroba-san.  See you later."_

The wind blew his words down the road, mingling them with the bus-exhaust and thinning them out until they were lost in the darkness.

********************************************************************************************************

_To Be Continued….._

**_Ysabet's_****_ Notes:_**_  Sort of an in-between chapter, wasn't it?  Not lots of action happening but tons of discussion.  An intermission of a chapter; you have to have them occasionally, I've found.  Consider it a wind-up for the action to follow—because NEXT chapter will give you riddles and the first steps towards a heist!_

_Sorry about all the angsty Aoko/Kaito-ness; but you know, there's no way she could just toss away the habits of being an upright, law-abiding, mop-wielding Cop's Offspring in a single easy drop of a hat… could you?  Maybe you could, but I'd think it's much harder than most people would believe; we're taught to 'do the right thing' from very early on, and strong training is the next thing to instinct.  I'm not talking about morals; morals are NOT instinct, no matter what we're told.  A cannibal who is raised as a cannibal considers their acts good, right and moral simply because that's how they're raised, don't they?  _

_Anyway….. on with the show.  Time to tease Conan, befuddle Nakamori and learn more about the effects of the Pandora Gem on our Fearless Heros.  My thanks to Becky, Icka, Hauntress, Morgan, Magik, Loqui and Ann for helping me beta-read this monster!  And lastly, mucho thankees to Icka again for coming up with the title!  Yaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!!  **goes poinging off into the distance.**_

(_Wow… I *just* checked the word count: just over 20,000 words.  Eeeeeeee….)_


	12. Field Trips, Part One

**_Chapter 12:  Field Trips (Part One)_**

_I walk the maze of moments and everywhere I turn to_

_Begins a new beginning but never finds a finish._

_I walk to the horizon, and there I find another;_

_It all seems so surprising, but then I find that I know:_

_You go there (you're gone forever)_

_I go there (I'll lose my way)_

_If we stay here we're not together--_

_--Anywhere is….._

_                (Enya, from 'The Memory of Trees' album)_

Sleep is a sea.

We float on the surface like seabirds resting on the waves, balanced against the surface-tension of water so deep that not a one of us knows what really lies beneath.  Do we want to know?  It's a pretty sure bet that most of us don't; human minds have this little tendency to get a touch uneasy about what lurks in the dark, and there's nothing so dark as deep water.

So we paddle around on the surface, flying clear when we can and drifting when we can't; and occasionally we look down as we pass above the shallows and can see to the bottom, and we then proudly announce that we _*understand* what happens when a person sleeps, we __*understand* what lies in the depths.  But we haven't a clue, not really; we're just guessing to make ourselves feel a little more secure against the blackness we know lies just beneath us._

Sleep is a sea.  But it has shoals, and currents, and islands…..

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

_The black sky overhead was spangled with stars; not long before, it would have been as blank and ungiving as a bottomless well, arching overhead in a gaze-swallowing expanse that made the eyes ache and turn away.  But now it held glittering, silvery pinpoints of light; and if the constellations didn't quite seem to match up with the ones that a person could see when they stepped outside or took a look through their window, well… it wasn't such a big deal, not really._

_This WAS a dream, after all._

_"---YEEEEEEK!!__  LOOK OUT BELOOOOOOOOOW!!!  Whoops—"_

_Himitsu Rin's laughter rang through the fake-ice halls and corridors of Ice Palace Mountain, high at the highest point of the artificial mountain overlooking Tropical Land—or what *would* have been Tropical Land if they had been awake.  She came skidding on her backside out of a chute, the fiberglass beneath her slick with the polish imbued by multiple other backsides and whatever maintenance you did to keep such things working right; just ahead of her Edogawa Conan did his best to scurry out of her trajectory to no avail._

_"AAACK!"___

_**Whumph!**_

_"Rin, that's my *head*-- get your foot out of my—OOOF!"  The sounds of two small bodies sliding across the smooth floor into the next chute mixed and echoed with the small girl's laughter and her companion's squawks.  When they at last came to rest on another landing, Conan braced them both with arms and legs and sprawled flat on his back on the slippery floor.  "Let's—take a—break, okay?" he panted; with a "Whoof!" of breath, Rin was only too happy to comply._

_The hidden lights of the fake ice-cave glittered bluely off polished surfaces in all directions; occasional air-chutes pierced the ceiling above, allowing the dim starlight to filter down.  Rin lay in a loose heap, her hair in her face; she muttered something under her breath, and the boy beside her nudged her with an elbow.  "What?"_

_"Penguins…"_

_That was enough to make him turn his head.  "Huh?"_

_"No penguins."  At his inquiring grunt, she elaborated (which was just as well):  "The last time I was here, there were people in penguin costumes running this place—remember?  Cute, but awfully silly."_

_Conan snorted, a sound that might have come from his older self.  "Hot, too; do you remember seventh grade, when I had to wear that tanuki costume for the Green Day parade?  Thought I was going to melt right down into my shoes before we finished."  He blew out a breath; the diminutive detective was not wearing his glasses, and his hair was straggling into his eyes.  Rin reached across and moved a stray strand or two._

_"Mmph.__  You looked awfully cute too, but you sure griped a lot," the girl teased, stretching; the former Mouri Ran was wearing the skirt, t-shirt and adult-sized jacket that she had worn on her first evening of her second childhood  (*not* the pajamas that she had gone to sleep in, something that made her wonder occasionally just who was responsible for her dreamscape's Wardrobe and Costume Department).  She propped herself up on her elbows next to the entrance to the downward-slanting slide, her own hair sticking up any which way; rummaging around in her pockets, Rin pulled out a slightly squashed chocolate bar and broke it in half._

_Conan sat up, shoving the rest of his hair out of his eyes; for a few minutes the two faux gradeschoolers munched in companionable silence while the Ice Cave's horrifyingly perky theme music played softly in the background.  He glanced sideways over at Rin, who pulled out a second, different kind of candy bar; "If you keep eating those things you'll get fat," he advised, licking his fingers._

_She broke it in half as well, shaking her head.  "Nope.  We're dreaming, remember?  Dream-chocolate doesn't HAVE any calories."  **munch, munch**  "If I wanted to—"  **munch, munch**  "—I could eat a dozen of these and not gain a kilo."  **munch, munch, crunch**  "Sonoko'd be awfully jealous..… if I told her, that is, which I'm not going to do.  So stop making those choking noises."_

_Her companion allowed himself to slide back down onto his back again, wiping away mock-sweatdrops from his forehead.  "If you did, that'd be it for both of us; I mean, can't you just *hear* her?"  What Sonoko would think about their occasionally-shared dreamworld didn't bear thinking of—especially when you considered who else shared it with them….._

_The first time the newly-'born' Edogawa Conan had managed to relax enough to get a real night's rest (one not haunted by frequent awakenings due to A) Black Organization-induced nightmares, B) Mouri Kogoro's snoring, or C) worries about just how badly Ran was going to hurt him when she at last found him out) he had landed in the middle of a very weird dream.  It had been more than a little disconcerting to find himself wandering across the parking-lot towards the gate of a very real-looking __Tropical__Land__Theme Park__… beside his former self, one Kudo Shinichi, tantei._

_The hardest thing had been working out who was going to speak first; they had eyed each other with truly mutual suspicion as they walked, the boy's light footfalls pattering in a three-to-two rhythm with his older self's heavier stride.  Then, determined to be calm, Conan had stopped as they reached the gate and held out a hand.  "Uh… Hi.  I'm—my name is Edogawa Conan… but I guess you know that, don't you?"  Dark blue eyes had stared rather apprehensively up through thin glass lenses at their identical counterparts, which had blinked._

_"Yeah, guess I do."  Not to be outdone in the game of Cooler-Than-Thou, the older detective shook the small hand gingerly.  "Kudo Shinichi….."_

_His smaller self had rolled his eyes.  "Tell me something I don't know."  Which, all things considered, had been quite difficult to manage._

_That was how things had gone for a full year.  It didn't happen all the time; most nights were spent in either dreamless or unremembered slumber, or in the more normal kinds of sleep-induced fantasies and phantasms.  After a while Conan/Shinichi had begun to welcome the rather bizarre dreams; it was Big Time weird to find yourself talking to yourself (and even weirder to be answered), but at least they gave him some company… and a chance for a reasonable conversation with somebody more than three feet tall.  Somebody who *really* understood what he was going through, too—because when he woke up, he remembered *both* sides of the conversation._

_And then, one year after his change, it had all changed **again;** for good or ill Mouri Ran had made a choice and had joined the ranks of what Conan privately called the Terminally Short.  The mind-numbing shock and guilty happiness (as well as relief, once he could admit it to himself) had been overwhelming; and then he and his other self had found out the weirdest thing of all… that they now had company in their dreams.  Conan and Shinichi had been joined by Rin and Ran, and they had had to rethink the whole 'split personality' thing all over again.  _

_It had been fairly reasonable to believe that Kudo Shinichi's altered brain had been handling its transformation by setting up an unusual sort of "coping mechanism," but when you found yourself on the following morning discussing some shared experience from the night before with somebody who existed OUTSIDE your head, that little explanation dissolved like smoke from Kiseki Eri's cooking._

_If it hadn't made things so much better, it might have really worried them; the former Shinichi and Ran had both learned to believe in three unbelievable things before breakfast, but telepathy wasn't high on the list….._

_After a while, the two of them (the four of them) had just decided not to think about it at all.  There were some things that needed to remain a mystery; otherwise, they might vanish the way a soap-bubble will when you touch it—and this little soap-bubble, as disturbing as its implications might be, brought an awful lot of comfort to four people (two people) who really needed it._

_Comfort….. and a few other, less comfortable things as well—less comfortable, that is, if you're physically eight years old._

_For instance:  What do you **do when you're aware that somewhere your other self is almost certainly sitting on a bench with your companion's other self, engaged in—well—necking?**_

_Answer:  Don't think about it; don't talk about it; and play until you're so tired you can hardly breathe.  After all, it's a dream, isn't it?  Sooner or later you'll wake up and then you'll remember what went on anyway…..  In the meantime, it was important not to blush (or at least to get so exhausted by running around like a crazy eight-year-old that any blushes went unnoticed)._

_Of course, in the back of your mind there was this little voice, going 'Jeeze, I wonder if we're having a good time…?'  And the only way to drown it out (until you woke up, that is, and found out) was to do something like climb to the top of Ice Palace Mountain and slide down its chutes, reach the bottom, and then do it all over again until your legs are wobbly.  And you try not to think about how your two alter-egos had firmly sent you away with threats of immediate doom if you came within eyesight for at least the next hour._

_An hour.__  A person could do a __LOT__ in an hour.  That was *not* a productive thought, but you just couldn't help but think it anyway._

_But it wasn't as if either Conan or Rin were really worried about their older selves getting in over their heads…  Having one's younger personae around (even at a considerable distance) acted as a very odd sort of chaperonage, which really didn't make sense; but there it was.  _

_Or so you hoped, if you were Conan and Rin.  Sort of, anyway._

_Besides, if you couldn't trust *yourself,* who COULD you trust?  So the thing was to keep your mind off the subject and concentrate on wearing yourself out completely and utterly._

_Yeah… right….._

_"Something on your mind?"__  Conan gave Rin an inquiring glance.  The girl finished the last of her candy-bar half, stuffing the wrapper back into a pocket.  Even in a dream she was reluctant to litter._

_"Hm?"__  She swung her legs around, preparing to continue their slide.  "Ohhh… nothing."  A little grin crept onto her heart-shaped face.  "Just wondering if we're having a good time out there—"_

_Conan felt his cheekbones burning; she wasn't supposed to SAY that!  "Why don't you go find out?" he suggested, raising his eyebrows as he grinned back and gave her a hefty shove with one foot._

_"YEEEEEEEEEP!__  CONAAAAAAAAN!!!"_

_**Whoosh!!!**_

_………. and meanwhile, off in the distance a little ways beyond the central castles and towers of __Tropical__Land__……_

_….. two figures held onto each other tightly._

_"I—I'm not sure about this, Shinichi…..  I'm a little scared.  I mean, what if I—what if I don't *like* it?  It'll be too late to stop once we—"_

_"Oh c'mon, Ran, it'll be okay, trust me.  When have I ever lied to you?"_

_Silence.__  Big, deep, echoing silence with a glare in it._

_"—errrr, I mean besides that entire year and all that.  And… it looks like fun, doesn't it?  You can't tell me you haven't been *thinking* about it ever since we—"_

_"—started coming here in our dreams, right…..  Okay, I admit it; I—I *HAVE* been thinking about it.  I even thought about it the last time we came here together as our grownup selves—you know, before you got shrunk.  And I admit, it's… well…..  But… Shinichi, it's, it's an awfully big s-step—"_

_"Shhhhh… it'll be okay, really it will.  And then we'll both know that there's nothing to be afraid of and we can do it again if we feel like it—"_

_She hesitated, looking into his eyes; they shone deep and blue back at her, melting her defenses.  "Well….."  She bit her lip.  Slowly Mouri Ran began to smile up at the young man who held her so closely in her arms; she gulped and nodded.  "Okay—but… you're going to have to tell me how to—"_

_He chuckled softly.  "*I've* never done this before *either,* remember?"  Kudo Shinichi pulled her a little closer, smiling as he felt the young woman relax against him.  "Anyway, how difficult can it be?  I used to see people do this at the beaches in __Hawaii__ all the time—"_

_"Shinichi!__  You did NOT!!"_

_"Sure I did—'course, you had to go to the right beaches…..  It'll be okay, Ran; trust me.  Now this is what you do…  First, relax; that's important.  Got that?  And you've got to position yourself just right, like *this*—if you start out wrong, it'll hurt.  Ready?  Good!  Deep breath now….."_

_She clung onto his hand, drawing back just a bit and turning.  "OoooooIdon'tKNOWaboutthisShinichiiiiiiiiii…"_

_"Ready……"_

_"Shinichiiiiiii…"  Her eyes grew huge._

_"…aaaaaAAAAAND----- **JUMP****!!!"**_

_With a duet of screams that were both terrified and exhilarated, the pair leaped off of the twelve-meter platform high, high above the deepest part of the __Tropical__Land__ swimming area.  The screams dopplered around each other through the night air as they plummeted like stones with voices, ending in a tremendous double **SPLASH!!!** that echoed off of the buildings for quite a ways around._

_After a moment or two, they both surfaced with a resounding **WHOOF!!** of indrawn breath; Ran's hair was plastered across her face and she gasped like a fish as she treaded water, yanking a bathing-suit strap back into place (they had raided __Tropical__Land__'s shops for swimwear).  Beside her Shinichi shoved back his hair and laughed breathlessly, trying not to gulp water.  "Told—you—" he gasped, doing his best to regain his breath while a huge smile stretched from ear to ear; "—Told you it'd be fun—"_

_Ran flailed a little, bobbing down a bit as she swallowed water in an effort to breathe.  She caught him by the neck and shoulders, clinging hard and warm against his chest--and then suddenly she was kissing him._

_Shinichi's eyes shot wide in a shock that was NOT due to the chill of the water or the twelve-meter drop he had just experienced; it had a lot more to do with suddenly having his equilibrium pulled *right* out from under him like the proverbial rug; when Ran did something like that, it tended to hit him that way._

_And she had been doing that a **lot **lately, too….._

_For a long, long moment her warmth was between Shinichi and the water, molded against his body; he could have drowned and not noticed.  Then, just as suddenly as she had nailed him Ran drew back, her eyes sparkling and a flush high on her cheeks.  "That was FUN," she gasped.  "Let's do it again!"  And with a splash she was off, swimming towards the pool's steps as fast as she could.  "Come on—"_

_Wearing a rather silly grin, the young detective attempted to re-engage his brain (it took some doing) and began heading towards the steps himself… only to suddenly halt and tread water as a familiar dizziness swept over him, stealing all sensation from his limbs and clouding his vision…  "Ran—ahh crap—"_

_"—I'm waking up—"_

_Her head jerked around, just in time to see her companion's form *BLUR* and vanish from its place in the waves.  For a long moment she stared, shoulders drooping, at where he had been.  Then, muttering things best left unheard, Mouri Ran turned back towards the edge of the pool.  Her face downcast, she climbed out and began toweling off as she sent a longing glance towards the floodlit pool; she had *so* hoped for a nice, long swim with Shinichi—and it hadn't exactly been easy to send their younger selves off, either.  Ran had just KNOWN that if the two of them had tried to jump from the highest platform with those two watching that she would have chickened out; for some reason, Himitsu Rin had far less of a fear of heights than her older self did._

_"They would have heckled us and yelled all sorts of taunts until we felt like DROWNING them," she muttered to herself as she began tugging a comb through her long, soaking wet mass of hair.  "And THEN where'd we be?"  Ran snorted, wondering whether suicide or murder would be applicable in that case._

_She sighed, wrapping the towel around her shoulders and slipping her shoes back on; it was time to locate her alter-ego, who would be equally as bereft.  Thinking long thoughts about kisses in a swimming pool, she trudged back along the lit cement paths into the park's main areas._

_"I wonder why he woke up, anyway?"  A little sad, a little wistful, she went to find her other self._

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Waking was quick:  one moment he was in the water with Ran/on a slide with Rin, then he… _wasn't.  The familiar sense of double vision rippled through him, making his thoughts seem to echo and bounce back, sending his mind reeling side-by-side and tripping over itself—_

--and _then_ he was Edogawa Conan, formerly Kudo Shinichi, wide awake and wondering what in the world had disturbed his sleep.

_*Mrmph?........huh??  MMPH!!*_  Something was blocking the light coming in through the window.  Something person-shaped, with an oblong, huge head and a glittering cyclopean eye—  The thing turned; light flashed as it moved, and he opened his mouth to shout out a warning, to wake up Rin and Kogoro and Eri—

It was across the room in a flash of ghostly white and a whisper of near-soundless movement; before he could even draw breath to yell, a hand was pressed firmly across his mouth, stifling his gasp of shock and all he could think was _*ohSHITthey'veGOTme* before his brain kicked into action and he began to fight back._

One hand pinned his shoulder to the mattress for a bare second, and he thought wildly of his watch, lying on the desk over by the window; _*shitshitSHIT----*_

_"Shhhhh…." w_hispered the crouching figure, his face a pale blur in the darkness.  _"No need to wake anybody else up, ne?"_  The monocle above him glittered like a full moon, so close that Conan could see his own dark reflection in its lens.  Against his lips the pressure of a gloved hand stayed, though, until he nodded fractionally; then it was released, and his visitor was abruptly several feet away again.

The whole thing had taken  less than ten seconds.  How the hell did anybody *move* like that?!?  Conan glared furiously at the thief who leaned against the windowsill, hands tucked loosely into his pockets.  The brim of the hat tilted, shadowing the planes of his half-hidden face as a smile gleamed in the dark.  _"I believe you wanted to see me?"  _

Slowly the boy sat up, shoving the covers back.  His mind reeled at the other's audacity—how _dared he actually invade his adversary's own home, his very room?  __*Goddamn arrogant son of a— shit, I can't BELIEVE he just burglarized my room--!!  If Hattori ever hears about this he'll never let me live it down…* _

_*…and he could've timed it better too; if there was one time I didn't want to stop dreaming, this was it.*_

Seething, he cleared his throat.  "Hell of a time to pay a visit," he growled, the angry words coming out peculiarly in his young boy's voice.  Conan winced; he sounded like a sulky child, but dammit--!!  "You could have picked a better location.  Why break in on me like this?  Obviously I know who you are now—"  He tensed a little as the pale figure in the window shifted a little, but the Kid merely settled a hip on the sill, apparently perfectly at ease.

The Phantom Thief shrugged, that smile gleaming in his shadowy face again.  _"Maybe I just felt like being… neighborly.  You visited MY home, so why shouldn't I visit YOURS?"_  He chuckled; there was real humor in the sound.

Sarcasm sharpened Conan's answer; he crossed his arms defiantly, eyes flickering towards the closed door for a second.  "And I suppose you want to know how I found out where you live?  By the way, _Kuroba-san," and he had the satisfaction of seeing his opponent twitch very slightly at the name, "how's your wound doing?  I didn't expect to see you up and around so fast—"_

_(Down the hall a door creaked open with the tiniest of sounds; there was a soft, near-silent scuff of footsteps approaching.)_

The other shrugged again noncommittally, but his smile had disappeared.  _"Ah well, you know us Phantom Thieves; thick-hided, the lot of us.  However,"_ and the soft voice sharpened just a bit, _"I'm not really concerned about how you found out; that's fairly obvious, isn't it?  You staked out Ayumi-chan's place and followed me home.  By the way,"_ and now the voice really HAD gained an edge, _"don't blame 'Yumi-chan for helping me; she's a good kid, and she did her best to take care of a friend who was hurt and needed help."_  The face seemed to have settled almost into blankness, a careful, closed expression that told very little.  But the voice…..  _"Don't get her involved; the less known about her friendship with me the better."_

"You've already gotten her involved, you idiot!  What the hell were you _*doing,*_ hiding out on a little girl's balcony?"  The young detective gritted his teeth, trying to keep his voice down despite the rising tide of red that was beginning to shade his vision.  "ANYWHERE else would've been better!  Goddamn it, if she gets in trouble because of you I'll—"

_"—you'll *what,* precisely?  Throw me to the wolves?"  _Now the cool voice was as sharp as a piece of broken ice, razory and cutting.  _"You do that and you'll be hurting her far worse than anything I could do; there's no way in hell I'd let on that I knew her, in jail or out of it, but do you think SHE'LL keep quiet?  Not likely—she's a kid, and she's loyal; you should know that better than anyone.  So let's just drop the threats and give each other a little room to breathe, shall we, Kudo-san?  Neither one of us has the leisure for that sort of thing."_

The young detective opened his mouth to retort angrily and then subsided a little; while it would have been extremely satisfying to put a soccer-ball alongside the thief's head, he had to admit that Kuroba was right.  "Fine," he spat, still working to keep his voice down.  "But risk her _in any way… and that's it; I don't give a damn about secrets or anything else.  You're not going to get an innocent in trouble."_

_(A hand on the doorknob then, and a pause while someone in the hallway listened to the conversation inside.__  Two sleep-befuddled eyes grew wide awake with memory and with fury.)_

They matched glare for glare for a few long, uneasy seconds; then, simultaneously, they each looked away.  _"Fine," said the Kid briefly; Conan grunted in affirmative.  __"And now that THAT little head-butting's over, why did you want to talk to me?  I assume it's not to capture me or attempt to persuade me to turn myself in; if you wanted me in jail, you would have led the police to my door yourself."  One eyebrow arched beneath the shadows of the hatbrim.  __"Now you know about me, just like I know about you; I'm here—and this time, you didn't have to hide under a HelloKitty umbrella; I came of my own accord.  Well?"_

Conan sighed, still more than a little pissed off at the thief's attitude.  For the second time he opened his mouth to answer…..

….. and fate stepped into the room in the shape of a very angry, very determined Himitsu Rin, her dart-pendant cocked, aimed and ready.  Her mouth was set into grim lines that sat oddly on her small, pink-cheeked little-girl's face; she brought the crosshairs up and her fingers moved as Kaitou Kid suddenly jerked into movement, sweeping his cloak around as an impromptu shield—

**_**thwipp!!**_**

The tiny dart struck home, flicking past the thin flap of material and impacting in pinpoint accuracy on the narrow band of exposed skin between the Kid's collar and jawline; he yelped, one gloved hand swatting at the sting….. and then _swayed._

"Got him!" cheered Rin, hopping up and down like the small child she so resembled.

_"Awp!"_ yelped the Kid, his one visible eye widening, staring, glazing over---

--- and then a very, very odd thing happened.  He wobbled, face growing slack as the two held their breath; clinging to the windowsill the thief swore under his breath, desperation and drugged sleepiness slurring the words.  But then—then it was as if _something shoved the tide of chemical-induced fog back, fought it down and stomped it right out of his system; both hands tightened their grip, pulling him upright as the haze cleared from his face._

_"@#$%!!"_ said the Kid, rubbing his neck and glaring.

"Damn!" said Rin, the word deeply heartfelt.

Conan just watched, eyes nearly popping out.  No-one had ever, EVER fought off the drug's effect like that—not even Gin, who had once shot himself through the shoulder to keep himself awake.  The chemical was fast-acting and foolproof… until now, at least.  _*What the hell?  He ought to be a pile on the floorboards by now!  Oh, for crying out loud-- dammit, Kid, can't you EVER do what you're expected to do?*_

Rin was looking distinctly worried; she edged through the doorway towards Conan, who slid off the mattress to drop directly in front of her—or at least he *would* have been in front of her if she hadn't firmly caught his hand and stood directly beside him in defiant, preadolescent solidarity.  She was still gripping her dartgun-pendant, and the dismay in her face was tempered with what Conan suspected to be a determination to get off another shot.

The Kid forestalled this, holding up a hand_.  "I suppose I deserved that for knocking you out on your friend's ship,"_ he grumbled, still rubbing his neck with the other hand.  _"Y'know, those damned little darts STING at close range."  He gave his head a shake, the triangular charm on his monocle swinging. _ "Truce, please?  I really didn't come here for a fight—as a matter of fact, you could even say I was *invited,* ne?  You DID go to all that trouble of leaving me a note….."__

Rather grudgingly, Conan nodded; he had, after all.  Beside him Rin's eyes narrowed.  "Maybe so, but—"

The Phantom Thief sighed.  _"Look, would it help matters if I said I was sorry?"  With a flourish he dropped to one knee, sweeping off his hat with one hand and placing the other over his heart as he bowed his head.  __"Please accept my most humble and sincere apologies for knocking you out and taking your place during the Black __Pearl__ incident; I didn't like doing it, but… in any case, I'm sorry."   He remained kneeling, looking back up at the small girl's face hopefully.  __"And to prove my sincerity, please accept this as well—I believe it's time it was given back to its proper owners…"  A small, flat package suddenly lay in the hand that had lain over his heart; white paper and white ribbons glimmered in the room's dim light as Rin stared at it mistrustfully._

For a long moment no-one moved; then, like a wild bird being lured to a hand full of birdseed, the former Mouri Ran stepped forward and accepted the package (leaving behind a Conan quivering with nerves).  "What is it?" she asked warily, not yet tugging at the ribbons.

The thief merely raised an eyebrow.  _"Harmless, I promise.  Go ahead and open it."_

Hesitantly she tugged at a ribbon; the wrappings fell away easily, revealing a plain white box with a lid.  Behind her Conan cleared his throat.  "Kuroba, if there's *anything* in there that'll—"

The kneeling figure replaced his hat on his rather wild dark hair and (so far as he could tell through darkness and the monocle) rolled his eyes.  _"Oh, give it a rest, Kudo; TRUST me-- and stop with the 'Kuroba's', would you please?  'Kid' will do quite nicely."_  

Dark blue eyes narrowed.  "Bite me… Kuroba."  The thief only laughed softly, interrupted a moment later by a gasp as Rin carefully removed the lid.

"!!!"  

Jaw dropping almost comically, she stared at the glittering thing inside; even in the shadowy room it threw back a cascade of tiny rainbows, spangling everything with miniscule dots of light.  The Phantom Thief stared at the Rose Tiara a little regretfully.  _"'Yumi-chan really liked playing with that," _he muttered with a sigh;_ "A pity I couldn't let her keep it.  Don't worry about her fingerprints being on it anywhere, though; I cleaned it off very nicely before I wrapped it."_

Interested despite himself, the former Kudo Shinichi blinked.  "How?"

The thief got back on his feet, taking his former place on the windowsill again; he chuckled, adjusting his hat.  _"Let's just say that you'd be amazed what a rock-tumbler and a large amount of rubber shavings will do towards cleaning jewelry," he commented whimsically.  __"So?  Apology accepted, Mouri-san---errr, Himitsu-san?  Or do I still need to be on the lookout for sleeping-darts?"_

The small girl still glared up at him dangerously through narrowed eyes; in her sleep-tousled, pajama'd state she shouldn't have looked remotely threatening… but she did, and the Phantom Thief was treating her with a respect that mollified her temper just a little.  "Just… stay over there, okay?"

He looked hurt, heaving a theatrical sigh.  _"As you wish…"  Tucking one leg up beneath him, the Kid leaned insouciantly against the side of the open window.  The monocle flashed again as he glanced around the room.  __"Nice place you've got here, Kudo-san; much better than sleeping on Mouri-tantei's floor, ne?  I take it you've been redecorating over the last few months…"_

The other two followed his gaze.  When Mouri Kogoro had begun to attempt a true reconciliation with his estranged wife, Conan had found himself abruptly being kicked out of his former sleeping quarters and into a tiny cleared-out closet of a room once used to archive old files and other junk in; he had applauded the change with relief.  It was unbelievably nice to have space of his own, not to have to sleep among the litter of Ojisan's bedroom floor on an old futon anymore.  Since then he had added his own little touches to the walls and shelves—a photo here, a group of books there…  Once his identity had been made known he had been able to transfer over a few things from his own house as well; now the walls sported several soccer-team posters and an autographed flyleaf from a century-old magazine in a frame (courtesy of Heiji the previous Christmas).  It didn't look much like a little kid's bedroom at all.

Both of the shorter of the room's occupants watched narrowly as their white-clad visitor leaned forward a bit from his perch, peering through the gloom at the faded piece of paper.  _"'The Hound of the Baskervilles, Chapter One,' ehh?  And autographed too; quite a piece of memorabilia for a Holmes admirer.  Now me, I'm more of an Arsene Lupin fan myself; I like his style."_

Conan snorted.  "Imagine that," he said dryly.  "How are you managing to read the title in the dark, anyway?"

Oddly enough, the question seemed to give the Phantom Thief pause; his calm façade slid a little for just a moment, the change visible in the dim city-glow filtering in through the window.  _"I… never mind.  Not important."  He shrugged, the movement strongly akin to the way a bird settles its feathers after an upset.   _"I believe you wanted to talk about something?"__

Conan shifted restlessly; beside him, Rin pulled herself up to sit on the bed a little behind him, fingers still stroking the glittering tiara.  "You could say that….."  He took a deep breath, trying to fight down the bad case of nerves that having a known felon in his room kept trying to bring on.  "When I talked to you in the park you told me a little about the men who killed your father.  I have a question or two to ask you about them."  

The thief seemed to be staring rather moodily across the room at the framed document on the wall.  _"'Strand Magazine, August 1901,'" he said apparently at random; the English words were oddly weighted with what almost sounded like… trepidation? uncertainty?  It was hard to tell._  "What questions?"__

Conan blinked; there was no way the tiny text at the bottom of the page could have been visible through the dark from all the way across his bedroom, no matter how small the place was.  Very weird.  He jerked his mind back to business with a mental shrug.  "What were they wearing when you saw them?"

_THAT_ was enough to startle his visitor; he stared at the boy standing beside the bed with disbelieving eyes and raised eyebrows.  _"Excuse me?  You went to all the trouble to invite me over just so we could chat about the fashion statements of villains and murderers?  …..and they call ME crazy?" _

There was a low noise from behind Conan, one that almost might have been a growl; it was accompanied by a tail-tale _**click-CLICK**_ as Rin armed her dartgun-pendant once again, but the Kid was unfazed.  He shook his head, looking apologetic.  _"I wouldn't bother, Himitsu-san; I doubt it'd have any more effect than your first try did.  As to your question…"_ and he turned back to Conan, _"… the few times I've gotten a good look at the bad guys in anything other than disguises they were wearing exclusively black.  Black jackets, black trenchcoats, black suits.  What's wrong with villains these days, anyway?  How tacky; haven't they learned that the Revolution can be *cheerful?*" _

Conan glared.  "Look, can we leave the color-coordination issue to one side for a minute?  The point is…" and he hesitated, trying to think of how to say what needed to be said.  "It's like this…" and he hesitated again, stalling.  It was just too damned _*humiliating* to come out and say something like 'We need to work together' to a goddamned wanted felon—especially THIS goddamned wanted felon.  He ground his teeth in frustration as the thief raised an eyebrow._

An impatient throat-clearing sort of sound broke the waiting silence; predictably, Rin had had enough.  "What he's trying to say is that the bad guys _you're_ after and the bad guys _we're_ after may be—well, probably ARE—the same people.  We're fighting the same enemies, and we thought maybe we could trade information."  At the indignant Conan-born splutters that erupted from this she crossed her arms and shrugged; "Well, that's right, isn't it?"

All traces of _Shinichi_ had vanished by now into the aspect of a sulky eight-year-old.  He muttered something that might have been an affirmative as she continued.  "The people we're up against—the ones responsible for our being..." and she held her hands out one above the other, roughly a foot apart, "… They always wear black.  We overheard what you said to—what was her name?"  She tapped the boy in front of her on the shoulder.

"… Nakamori Aoko…"  Sulk, sulk; he continued glaring at the Kid.

"That was it, Nakamori-san—something about, um, 'those bastards in black'… and Shinichi and I put two and two together."  The little girl looked mildly embarrassed at the profanity.  "Those men who killed your father—they're part of some sort of organization?   One that wears black all the time?  Do you know anything else about them?"

The white-clad thief's face had slipped back into its calm, expressionless mode at the mention of his father's murderers; now he gave a brief nod.  _"I do; but why should I tell you?  What's to prevent you from turning me in, getting Aoko into a world of trouble with her father, and then going after the baddies yourselves once you've got what you want from me?  Why should I cooperate?"_  There was an odd gleam in his one visible eye that nearly matched the glitter of his monocle for coldness.  _"You two, both of you… and I… we're total opposites, thief and thief-takers; why should we work together?  A partial truce for Ayumi's sake, that's one thing—but this?  **Why** should I trust you?"_   Defiance flashed in both the glass lens and the shadowy eye.

"Because we have a common goal, you moron… and because that way we won't be tripping over each other every other second," Conan snapped fiercely.  "You're not just playing cops-and-robbers now, you're risking your own life and *the lives of others*_ when you go after a target, correct?  The stakes've been raised… and you said it yourself when we talked the last time:  __You don't let other people get hurt."  His face was very intent as logic battled with the irritation and mistrust.  "Did you really mean that?  Or was it just a convenient little platitude?  Your friend Nakamori Aoko… her father's already been shot at several times; do you want __*HER* to be a target as well?"_

The still face beneath the shading hat-brim flickered; emotion crossed it as fleetingly as moonlight.  _"Go on; I'm listening."_

Conan grimaced, hopping up onto the bed to sit beside Rin with his feet dangling; she shifted over to make room.  "Don't think I like the idea of working with you any better than you do—OR of trusting you.  I'm *supposed* to be trustworthy; you, by definition, are _not._  But you're in a lot more trouble than you think right now, if what we've deduced is correct….."  He stared up at the impassive face.  "Well?  Interested?  Or shall we just say goodnight right here and keep our secrets to ourselves?"

Silence.

Heavy footsteps in the hallway were all the warning the three in the room had; there was a sudden flurry of movement on the bed and by the window, and—

"Kudo?"  The door to the hall creaked open, allowing a thin line of light to fall like a knife across the foot of the bed; from his place on the pillow, the boy blinked up at Mouri Kogoro.  The private detective's hair was rumpled and he scrubbed at his eyes briefly with one hand.  "What the hell's all the noise?  Thought I heard voices—"

The room's (apparent) sole inhabitant yawned.  "Uh… sorry; didn't mean to wake you up.  I was, um, listening to my radio; I just turned it off.  Didn't mean to make so much noise—I, uh, couldn't sleep."  He tugged the covers up a little further, unobtrusively sliding back towards the wall.

The older man grunted.  "Keep it down, will you?  _Some_ of us have to get up early tomorrow…"  Muttering, he gave the room a disinterested glance and stomped down the hall towards his room; the sound of his door closing behind him was clearly audible.

Silence again, broken by a muffled laugh as Rin slid from her hiding place beneath the covers between the boy and the wall; she sat up cross-legged, eyes dancing.  "Now _*that* could've been kind of awkward—"_

Slipping back towards the window from where he had hidden in Conan's closet, the Phantom Thief eyed them both—and in particular, Conan—with a grin.  _"So it could.  And please note that I wouldn't *DREAM* of making any comments about you two being in bed together and all that….."_

The former Kudo Shinichi flushed a deep red, embarrassment practically setting his face on fire as he hurriedly sat up again.  "Considering how many times YOU'VE been coming out of closets lately, I wouldn't start."

_"Not a word,"_ the Kid assured him sincerely.  Rin fought back another giggle.  

He cleared his throat softly, still grinning a little; the tension in the room seemed to have been broken rather neatly by the Amazing Sleepless Kogoro's appearance.  _"Now:  back to the subject.  What's all this about my being in more trouble than I think?  And as much as it goes against my grain and every Phantom Thief Union law on the record, I'm willing to strike a full truce with you if you'll keep up your end of the bargain.  I meant what I said about no innocents suffering because of my little feud, and if sharing information helps with that, then I'm all for it."  He sighed, a rueful sound.  __"My father's probably doing backflips in his grave about now—his son, dealing honestly with a detective….."_

Rin gave a very unladylike snort.  "'Honestly'?"__

He nodded.  _"'Honestly;' if we're going to play a game of Poker with one another, I'd prefer no cheating or stacking of the deck—or we'll ALL lose and the bad guys will win.  I don't think any of us want that."  Carefully one white-gloved hand pulled Conan's desk-chair over to the window; straddling the seat with his arms dangling across the back, the thief peered at them beneath the brim of his hat.  __"Alright… now, one more time from the top:  What *exactly* did you mean by my being in trouble?"_

"Wait a second—"  Rin was frowning, a thoughtful look on her face… leavened with a good portion of stubbornness; Conan blinked; he had seen _that_ look before, and it usually spelled trouble.  "Before we start explaining… this 'honesty' thing….."  At the thief's inquiring look she fixed him with a very Mouri Ran look, crossing her arms.  "You know who we are, we know who you are; *we're* willing to tell you the truth in good faith… but it's like Shinichi said:  we're _supposed_ to be honest.  How do we know you'll deal fairly with us?  You could do a lot more damage if you let our secrets leak out than we could if we exposed you—you could just run; you're awfully good at getting away from the police, aren't you?"

The shadowy figure shrugged.  _"Of course.  So… what do you want from me?  All I can give is my word…"_

She shook her head.  "You can do one other thing, just as a sort of guarantee that you're going to be truthful with us… especially if we're going to work together."  Rin took a deep breath and sat forward, her eyes taking on a gleam that made the thief look slightly uneasy.  "You can show us your face."

**_"………! ! !……."_******

Even Conan was taken a little aback at this, though a large part of his mind became heavily involved in doing a sort of mental victory-dance complete with cheers and crowd noises.  They hadn't gotten a good look at Kuroba Kaito during their earlier eavesdropping (although *he* had seen the Kid's face relatively clearly during their little chat in the park).  And Rin—that is, _RAN (she was sounding more Ran-like than ever just now) wanted to see what he looked like?  _

_*Whoa…..*  The_ room rang with silence; Kaitou Kid sat so still that he scarcely seemed to breathe.

At last he spoke.  _"It all comes down to risks and what they pay for, doesn't it?  When I started all this… when I said I'd avenge my father's death, I swore that I'd pay any price to do it.  But the only person who can pay is ME; nobody else, not Aoko, not Ayumi—not even you two."  An oddly wry little smile tugged at his mouth; the Kid seemed to be breathing a little faster.  _"So… you want to see my face, do you?  Would this have anything to do with revenge, Mouri-san?"__

She smiled back, just a small smile but a very satisfied one.  "Maybe...  Think of it as a gesture of good faith.  Now, the question is… do you have the—the _*courage* to do it?"  She looked at Conan.  "What's that word I've heard Sonoko use—_'chutzpah'?"_  And then she turned back towards the thief, her eyes daring him to answer._

Conan nodded but held his peace.  Inside, though, he was chortling; _*Go Ran!*_ and wishing strongly for a camera.  Not for nothing was she the daughter of a former cop… _*He won't do it, though.   There are some risks even the Kaitou Kid won't take.*  Somewhere behind Conan's quiet face Kudo Shinichi shook his head and fought back a twinge of sympathy; he remembered what it had been like, that moment when he took off his own masks and gave the truth to Ran.  __*There's only so far a person can go.  And if everything I've guessed about Kuroba is right, then his world is already a pretty tense one; this may just be too much to ask.*_

But it was a funny thing...  The Kid was looking at _him_ now, almost as if he could read the boy's thoughts; and the look of closed-door refusal was changing into something else, the kind of something you saw when the Phantom Thief was about to do something…

…improbable.

_*No way.  He wouldn't… would he?*_

At last the white-clad thief sighed a long and rueful sigh; his gaze had turned inwards, and he almost seemed to be on the verge of laughing—at himself, maybe.  _"You know, if I get killed during a heist sometime in the future, my dad's going to thump me on the head when I see him in the Afterlife for even considering doing something this stupid," he said mournfully, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. __ "Ahh, well….."  The Kid gave a fatalistic shrug.  __"Never mind.  No rewards without risk.  Turn on the lamp, Mouri-san."_

Rin's forehead wrinkled.  "Huh?" she said inelegantly, puzzled.  Beside her the boy's eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

_"Well, you didn't expect to be able to see what I look like without **light,** did you?"_

The girl stared at him wordlessly; her fingers clenched the blankets, white-knuckled even in the dark.  Conan was actually closer to the lamp, so he reached past her and clicked it on.

Stark light flooded the room, making them all blink and lending an air of unreality to the scene that the shadows had hidden.  Somehow, seeing the Phantom Thief so plainly in open and uncomplicated view made him seem even less substantial than before, even with the lamp-light shining through his monocle and showing the color of his eyes with startling vividness.  The two not-children sat together on the bed, watching his motionless form; then, moving with a strange deliberation, the Kid reached up and removed monocle and hat together, raising his unshielded face to their gaze.

_*Shit; he's… he really **IS as young as I thought he was, no older.  No older than me, or Ran.  Look at that; he could be one of the guys I used to go to school with.***_

Kaitou Kid-- _*Kuroba Kaito*--_ stared back at them, tousled dark hair overhanging a thin, mobile face set with remarkably expressive eyes that just then held a _great deal of suppressed wariness.  Bereft of his disguise, he had an air about him of something poised to flee, something that was staying in one place only due to an act of will._

All things concerned, Conan supposed that that was true; giving yourself away willingly *was* an act of will and harder than hell, too, no matter _who you were.  He knew that better than anybody.  And a part of him was pretty damned impressed and more than a little shocked.  __*He really did it…*_

The Phantom Thief shifted nervously beneath their regard.  "Go ahead," he said a little too abruptly; "Take a good long look."  He cleared his throat, his gloved fingers tightening on the brim of his hat; the young man's face was rather pale in the lamplight, and the quick, controlled movement he made as he leaned back with forced nonchalance on the chair strongly suggested a wish to either leave or to turn the light off.  "Well?  _Happy_ now?"  His voice sounded… odd, rougher than the smooth, low tones of his other self.  The sharp, restless eyes flickered from one watcher's face to the other.  "Or do you want my fingerprints as well?"

Rin's voice was subdued.  "You're a lot younger than I thought you'd be."

He gave a soft almost-laugh, thin laugh-lines crinkling a little.  "Yeah, well… Pot?  Kettle?  Black?"  One dark eyebrow quirked up.  "Look who's talking, Mouri-san."

For several long minutes the three simply stared at each other.  Kuroba sat quietly, not saying a word as they looked their fill.  A muscle in the young magician's face twitched briefly before being controlled, but he never lowered his eyes.  _Look at me, those eyes seemed to say; __Look at me.  This is what I chose to be for my father's sake, for reasons of my own and because it felt like the right thing to do.  Look at me.  I'm not ashamed to be what I am.  Are *you?*_

_Look at me._

At last, Conan's eyebrows slowly rose.  "Kuroba?"  He tilted his head to one side.  "You know, you're a hell of a lot quieter as—uh, like _this_ than you are as the Kid."  For some reason he felt a trace of a grin trying to sneak out; he fought to keep it out of his voice.

The young man opposite him blinked; a slow smile crept back onto his face.  It looked remarkably at home there.  "You have GOT to be the first person to _*ever* call ME quiet…" he muttered, regaining a little of his cheerfulness back.  He clapped his hat back on with an air of distinct relief and fitted the monocle back into place; its triangular charm swung jauntily.  _"So!  Now that that's over, how about finally explaining that remark of yours about my 'being in more trouble than I know,' hmmmmm...?  You know, the one you made before I bared my soul—or my face, at least—to you?"_  His voice had dropped unconsciously (or perhaps consciously; how could you tell?) with the resumption of his disguise back to Kaitou Kid's smooth, low half-whisper, and he sat forward a bit, eyes fixed expectantly on his audience._

The two faux gradeschoolers looked at each other, returning to their previous topic with an abrupt jerk of reality setting in.  "Uhh—right."  The boy took a deep breath, his mind groping for words.  "It's… like this….."

It only took a few minutes for Conan and Rin to explain; their young voices made a peculiar duet of the harsh, cold facts as they spelled out what had been deduced the previous evening.  It was plain enough, once you had all the facts and could look at them in with clear sight:  the senior Kuroba had died *not* while acting as the Kid, but in his _civilian_ identity.  Therefore, his enemies had known who he was—and they certainly knew who had taken his place as the Phantom Thief, International Criminal #1412, the Kaitou Kid.

_His son….. _

…..and if his father's murderers were part and parcel of the Black Organization, they left nothing to chance; he was quite definitely under surveillance and probably had been for years.  And not only him, but his friends and family as well:  Kuroba Hikarue, Nakamori Ginzo, Nakamori Aoko…..

For _*years.*_

And **_THAT_** was what shook the Phantom Thief's composure, far more even than his unmasking—not the fact that his enemies were overwhelmingly larger and better organized than he had thought, not even the immediate _danger that he stood in, with his identity known and his life under watch.  No, it was Conan's dry, quiet explanation of how the Black Organization tended to cover all bases by what could be called a 'slash-and-burn' policy—no witnesses, no __relatives or _coworkers_ or _acquaintances_ of witnesses left alive.  Not one._

That was what shook him; that was what made the shoulders beneath the white jacket tense, made the gloved hands ball into fists that strained the fabric and sent creaking noises from where they gripped the back of the chair.  

_"…..no….."_  

He was on his feet before they saw him move, and halfway out the open window before they realized what he was up to.  _"STOP, you idiot!!" hissed Conan, catapulting himself from the bed and grabbing wildly at a fold of cloak; it slid through his fingers like mist, but made the white figure pause for a bare second, looking back with one leg slung over the sill.  "Look," said the boy desperately; "Panicking isn't going to solve anything; if they haven't killed anybody from your 'civilian' life so far, it isn't likely they're going to tonight—"  _

Behind him he could hear Rin as she slid down, landing with a soft thud of small bare feet.  "Don't go—"  Her words were as desperate as his, the urgency cutting through the young-girl soprano of her voice;  "There's more—if you go, how will you know who to fight?  And you haven't told us *your* side yet."

The Kid jerked the last bit of his cloak from Conan's grasp; in the dim light his face was set and very pale_.  "Let GO of me, dammit!!  You don't know—"_  The cool voice was no longer cool and the dark blue eye was merely dark, all blueness submerged in fear; for a second the dim streetlights outside the window seemed to reflect back like candle-flames from his pupils.  

The young detective grabbed again for the folds of white cloak.  "Will you—goddammit, **_STOP!"_  He hung on, digging his heels in and trying to keep his voice down.  "You *said* you wouldn't let anybody else get hurt—how the hell can you keep them safe if you don't know everything you can about who you're fighting?!?"  With all his might he struggled to keep hold of his handful, wondering what the hell the damned thing was _made of, anyway?  It slithered out of his grip as if with a slippery life of its own._**

Two small hands joined his, the thin fingers biting into the pale cloth beside them; "Ayumi—think of Ayumi—"

But it was too late; the fabric slid from their clutches like iced silk.  Gravity and impetus won, and the white figure of the Kid was suddenly _*outside* _the window and halfway down an unnoticed rope.  Swearing, halfway between fury and desperation, Conan reached impotently after the departing thief—

--and gravity won *again.*  He toppled forward; behind him he heard _"SHINICHIII!" as Rin tried and failed to hold him….._

_*OH SHIT*_

For a split-second he was falling, face-first to meet the ground in a very up close and personal way….. and then _**YANK!!**_ and he was suddenly dangling feet-downwards by his pajama collar, arms flailing as a furious voice hissed in his ear:

_"Will you SHUT UP already?  I should've just let you drop—and if you keep twisting around like that, I will!"_  He hadn't even realized that he had been yelling.  Lights were coming on above in Mouri's room, Rin was leaning halfway out of his own window, and Conan felt himself being hoisted up like a sack full of groceries as the Phantom Thief who had saved him shimmied one-handed back up the rope.

_*Well, that was—oof!—ONE way to get him to stay for a second--*  The_ boy half-fell through his window as the Kid shoved him through and released his collar.  Angry mutterings from the thief behind him put paid to any notions of continuing their conversation; as Mouri Kogoro's heavy footfalls came towards them down the hall, he scrambled to his feet and stuck his head back through again after his hastily-departing rescuer, a mere blur in the shadows at this point.  "Tomorrow afternoon in the park!" hissed the boy; "We still—"

He was talking to… darkness.  The Phantom Thief was gone.

_*Goddamned escape artists…..*_

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

For some reason, Conan thought that the Amazing Sleepless Kogoro did _*not* quite buy his explanation for all the noise._

Admittedly, saying that he hadn't been able to sleep, had been watching a bat from his window and had fallen out only to be rescued by Rin (who had heard his calls for help as he hung from the sill) was rather fishy….. but what else could he say?  "Well, actually, I fell out the window trying to persuade the Kaitou Kid to hang around and continue our friendly late-night chat"?

No.

But Ojisan gave him odd, suspicious looks for _days._

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Phantom Thief was halfway home and right at the edge of a rooftop when his common-sense caught up with him and smacked him in the back of the head, freezing him in place with one foot on the edge of an air-vent and both hands tight on a guardrail.  He cursed to himself briefly as the rush of panic faded, taking with him a lot of his adrenaline.  _*Well, hell; I could've handled that a little better, couldn't I?  Way to GO, Thief Boy—Kudo probably thinks you're a blithering idiot by now.  And he's not far from right, either.*_  He paused, slumping down in the shadow of an air-conditioning unit to consider his next move and the facts that he had learned.

So his enemies had just gone from a small, deadly group of bad guys to an overwhelmingly huge, far-reaching organization of bad guys; nothing to panic over, right?  _*Right.  And tomorrow I'll skip school and go swimming at the beach with all the fishies.  Sure I will.*_

Kaito bit his lip, feeling something of an idiot as he glanced back towards the direction he had come; granted, he could turn around and go back to his little talk with the Short Brigade—but no, by now the noise had undoubtedly wakened the others and all the lights were on.  He mentally thwapped himself upside the head; _*Baka; you made a sloppy exit.  Dad'd be annoyed—he always hated poor showmanship.*_

The late night breeze swirled the lightweight cloak about him in drifts of silvery white; as thoughts of his father's disapproval passed through his mind, the heir to Kuroba Toichi sighed and wrapped it tightly around him in fistfuls as if seeking comfort from the garment.  _*Wonder if Dad ever realized just what he was up against?  Wonder if he understood the truth before he died—that his killers weren't just a collection of smarter-than-average thugs with ambition, but instead some sort of big, black criminal octopus, with tentacles all over Japan—all over the world, maybe?  I'll never know.*  The news was sobering; how the hell did you fight something this big?_

_*Kudo was right, and so was Mouri-san; I should've stayed and learned more.  Tomorrow, then; the park again.  Great.  I'm beginning to develop a reeeeeeal dislike of trees-----*_

Well, nothing he could do about that; he set off for home, a bad feeling lingering in the back of his mind and filling it with the itchy sensation that incipient panic brings.  Kudo had been right; if they hadn't dragged him off or killed him in his 'civilian' persona by now, it wasn't likely that they were going to… and that went for his friends and family as well.  If they were using him as a stalking horse to find the Pandora Gem (which sounded likely), then their best bet was to let him do his job without the little distractions that kidnapping or killing his nearest and dearest would bring.

He had to keep telling himself that, over and over; otherwise he'd lose it all over again.

Of course, considering their recent habit of taking pot-shots at him *during* heists, both he and Kudo might be entirely wrong about the whole idea.  Kaito suppressed a quiver of panic as he skirted a flimsy-looking patch on a rooftop and then tightrope-walked his way along a familiar railing (he had been to the Mouri's enough times that the route was old hat by now); _*Everybody'll be fine, at least for the moment; Mom's staying with Aunt Mariko for a while, and Aoko's…*_

_*…Aoko's staying with me.  And I'm almost definitely under surveillance.  Holy jumpingSHIT.  No, no, don't panic; she's safer with you than out of your sight—and at least now you can tell her what you know.  And the sooner the better, too.*_

This was not going to be fun; in fact, this was going to be all _KINDS of difficult.  And it didn't help that he still got the internal shakes every time he thought about what his _*other*_ little vulnerability, the one that had happened only a little while earlier.  _*Man, I still don't believe I unmasked for those two.  But Mouri-san had a valid point; it *was* a sort of display of good faith on my part.  Damn, though—I will NEVER underestimate that little pipsqueak of a girl again—she's nearly as scary as Kudo!*__

Moving automatically, he slid aside a metal cover on an unused-looking grating at a neglected little alcove of a warehouse rooftop; it moved quite silently for something so rusty, almost as though it had been carefully oiled….. which, of course, it _had_ been; Kaito had quite a number of ways back to his house, and he looked after them meticulously.  The maps his father had left behind of escape routes, tunnels, convenient hiding places and lying-low spots had been somewhat outdated but still unbelievably useful; this part of Tokyo was absolutely _riddled with the oddest bits and pieces of left-over real estate, unused rooms, scraps of built-over spaces and basements and steam tunnels and drainage systems and….. _

_*It'd be a crime to not make use of 'em,*_ he mused absentmindedly as he climbed soundlessly down the narrow ladder inside the grating; it took his weight without complaint.  _*We Phantom Thieves are nothing if not opportunists.  It's in the Union Rules.*_  Most of the routes were used while he was in his everyday clothes, too, like he had that evening; it was much better to change into his working gear while at the scene of the crime, so to speak (although not always; in the beginning he had frequently donned his other persona in his father's old lair and traveled from there.  A surprising number of the routes were attached to the Kuroba residence in one fashion or another).

Speaking of changing…..  The young thief dropped the remaining few from the end of the ladder, landing soft-footed on the cracked floor of an old steam-tunnel; his backpack awaited him there, and he began the metamorphosis back into one Kuroba Kaito, innocent high school student without the slightest connection to any Phantom Thieves whatsoever.

_*Who, me?  Nosir, officer, I'm just your average everyday Tokyo slacker, strolling down a deserted steam-tunnel way late at night—no, make that waaaaay early in the morning.  What Kid costume?  Oh, you mean THIS Kid costume, the one in my backpack?  Um… surprise party for Inspector Nakamori?  His daughter said he'd LOVE the idea, really she did…..*_  The whimsical little scene playing out in his head helped to fight back the growing sense of urgency and worry that lurked behind it all, like a villain hiding backstage at a play; Kaito hefted his backpack and hotfooted it down the passageway, moving swiftly towards home through the dim, intermittent flicker of the overhead safety-lights.

He emerged from a long-forgotten steel door at the bottom of a trash-strewn flight of stairs less than four blocks from his home; the route back had wound from the steam-tunnels into the back end of an unused cellar and from there through a brief series of air-ducts, finally ending in what for all the world looked like a long, narrow storage-room for the electronics warehouse next door.  A search of that warehouse's keys, however, would _not_ have produced one that would open the room's door… especially since it could only be unlatched from the inside; Kaito had entered the passages by another route entirely.

Hands in pockets, the young magician moved quietly through the dimly-lit streets towards his neighborhood.  Somewhere in the distance he could hear a clock chiming the half-hour; that would be the Ijima's old grandfather clock at the corner—the thing was so loud that you could hear it outside their house.  It was interesting, though, how _clearly_ he could hear it…..

….. and speaking of 'clearly'….. how the _hell_ had he been able to read that little piece of memorabilia of Kudo's so easily in the dark?  That bothered him; it made him twitch uneasily between the shoulderblades.  He just should not have been able to *do* that.

Come to think of it, he was seeing awfully well through the shadows right now, wasn't he?

Almost reluctantly Kaito picked out a bus-stop sign a few meters away from any sources of light; it was really odd how easily he could make out the pickup-schedule printed there.  He scowled to himself, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand; _*Hell, Kuroba, you're worrying about something like THIS right now?  Stop it; you've got bigger problems than wondering why you can suddenly see better in the dark than you used to.  Besides, it's probably just all the practice you've been getting from your 'night job;' your eyes have adjusted or something.*_

_*But it's weird, isn't it?  I can read in the dark.  I never could do *that* before.*_  He tilted his head back, peering up at the sky.  _*And look at all the stars!  Is it just me, or is the sky awfully bright tonight?  Maybe that's it.*_

Right.  Nothing to worry about.  Or… at least, not right *now.*

And it was so damned _easy_ to jump at shadows, he thought moodily; it was so easy to send prickles of alarm down his spine by letting his thoughts drift back to what he had been told about the—what had Kudo and Mouri called it?  The Black Organization?  _*How… trite; bad guys wearing black.  Let's hear it for stereotypes, guys!*   He was in deep kimchi, no ifs, ands or buts.   And so apparently were his mom, Aoko, Nakamori-san, etc., etc., ad nauseum.  __*Wonderful.  My hair's gonna be as white as my outfit if this keeps up.  Heh; me and Spot, we'll match just great—white hair and blue eyes.  Wonder if I could get the little monster to wear a monocle?*_

He ducked down a narrow service-alleyway between his street and the next, slipping through the shadows with practiced ease.  It hadn't taken long for Kaito to get used to the idea of sneaking away *and* back to his house unseen; and if he was under surveillance like Kudo seemed so certain that he was, that was a good thing.  

_*I'll have to show Aoko a few of the easier routes—no, no, that's wrong.  THINK with your brain, Thief Boy—she's not used to sneaking; if she tries she'll stick out like a thousand-watt bulb out of sheer guilt.  And do you really want her walking through deserted alleyways in the dark, where somebody could creep up behind her?  Remember what those bullets felt like?  Aoko might not be as lucky as you were.*_  With a shiver of memory, Kaito slipped into his yard through the loose bit of fence on one side.

The house was silent when he let himself in through the door in the dove-pen; Aoko was probably asleep.  Most of the lights had been turned down, and the young thief moved silently through shadowy rooms, feeling like an intruder in his own home.  As he stepped into the dim pool of light cast by the kitchen window, he frowned a bit; was it just his nerves over-reacting, or was there…

… something not quite right about the house?

It was the barest whisper of wrongness; something out of place, something askew or—he didn't know.  But pausing on the threshold to the hallway, every sense alert, Kaito felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.  _*???*  Was it….. there was something funny about the hallway; a _sound,_ that was it, the faintest trace of a hiss, like air being sucked in or blown out or sheering around a sharp edge.  Now, *what* the hell was—_

It caught his eye then.  His father's portrait was open, jutting out scarcely an inch from the wall; _the secret door was open._

Barely daring to breathe, he eased it further open a hair and listened; nothing much, save for the susurration of moving air that had alerted him as the seldom-opened passage disturbed his home's usual drafts and air patterns.  Nothing; all was very quiet.  You could have heard a feather fall.

Kaito let out a gulp of air he hadn't even realized he was holding as he took in the scene on the other side of the door; a small light shone from the cluttered room beyond, giving enough illumination to make things very plain.  Nakamori Aoko lay curled up like a kitten on a pilfered couch-cushion and blanket on the far side of the room, a scatter of notebooks around her; the young woman's head was pillowed on her arms where she had slumped sideways, and her breathing was slow and even in sleep.  Beside her, a white circle of fluff betrayed the presence of her partner in crime, Spot, also snoring little kitty snores.

Moving slowly, her friend tiptoed across the floor and knelt beside her, a rueful smile spreading across his tired face.  _*She must've read the bits in the notebooks about this room and figured out how to open it.  I mean, it's not exactly difficult—and I had better take care of that someday, come to think of it.  Wouldn't want Hakuba to lean against the wall at the wrong place, now would I?*  He reached out and flicked a straggling lock of hair from Aoko's eyes, where it promptly fell back into place; her face was flushed like a child's, dusty from her explorations.  Cobwebs hung in her hair, and as he gently brushed a fingertip along the line of one cheekbone she snuggled down a little deeper into the blanket._

A yawn surprised Kaito, sneaking out and making his face crack from ear to ear.  _*Tired.*_   Carefully he sat down beside her warm body, avoiding an elbow that shifted against him as she unconsciously adjusted to his presence.  Spot opened one crystalline blue eye and blinked, then thought better of the whole 'awake' idea and fell back asleep.

The notebook beneath Aoko's arms looked to be opened to the thin, so-called 'history' section; there wasn't much there, but he gently teased it out from beneath her slumbering weight to reread his own words:

_"—From the little Jii will tell me about Mom's family, she had a kaitou or two in the woodpile as well.  Looks like her ancestors sort of specialized in data retrieval in a weird sort of way; Jii said they went after rare books and scrolls as well as word-of-mouth info.  Spies, that sort of thing, I guess."_

_"Dad's family line, though… they were kaitous and magicians like me, fancy dress and all.  Jii showed me a picture of one of them that Dad had given him ages ago, something from some archive somewhere; it was a kaitou, but not in Western dress—this guy was wearing a sort of outfit halfway between traditional costume and what everybody thinks of a Ninja wearing, only the whole thing was in shades of gray.  Very cool; good camouflage, better than all black when you think about it.  Reminded me of those outfits that Tengu always wore in the old scrolls."_

_"The Kurobas must've been kaitous for a hell of a long time; that picture was at least four hundred years old.  Jii had it in a little specially-made wooden and glass frame.  When I asked him where Dad had gotten it, he just shrugged and said 'family.'  Wonder who he was talking about?  Mom's always said that all my grandparents died years ago, and she's never mentioned much in the way of other relatives.  Might be nice, following up that little train of thought some day.  Wonder if there's any other thieves in the family?  Hah; how do you ask that kind of thing, though?  "Hey, I'm your Third Cousin Twice Removed Kuroba Kaito; steal anything good lately?""_

He scowled down at the scrawl on the page, the last whimsical sentence making him grimace.  _*Stupid.  If they WERE a thief, they wouldn't admit it.  And it they WEREN'T, you'd end up on your ass in jail so fast your butt'd catch on fire from the friction.*  Quietly he closed the book, leaning back with his hands behind his head.  Kaito's weary eyes strayed sideways to the young woman beside him; the Inspector's daughter looked very young and innocent, curled up and looking so warm and comfortable….._

_*Hmmm… there's room enough…..  Scoot your furry tail over, kitten.*_

The young magician settled himself around her; Aoko shifted without waking, one hand groping for his wrist as he draped an arm across her shoulders.  _*Don't wake her, baka.*_  Spot didn't even bother to open his eyes this time; the kitten merely made a sort of disgruntled "mRfmph" noise and pulled one paw over its pink nose.

Kuroba Toichi's son wondered a little sleepily what Aoko had made of the room, with all its bizarre gizmos and old magician's tools—the desk scattered with lockpicks and disassembled electronics, the small bins of completed armaments, the various harnesses and machinery hanging from the beams overhead, the cloaks and tuxedos on the rack and the weird little clock on the shelf by the door…..

Kaito was extremely fond of that clock.  It was his dad's work, of course—nobody _*else* would make a clock with a tiny little figure on a white hang-glider that popped out on the hour and doffed its hat politely before launching itself.  __*Talk about a cuckoo clock—this is more of a whacko clock.*  But he really got a kick out of it when it went off, not chiming but simply sending the little white Kaitou loop-de-looping once around the whole mechanism on its thin silver guidewire and then back inside a little door that disappeared utterly when closed.  It always made him think of the Clock Tower incident, only in a good way._

It didn't look like Aoko was interested in waking up any time soon; oh well, there were worse places to spend the night.  As he carefully set the alarm on his wristwatch, Kaito mused that the idea of leaving her down there alone wasn't even a consideration.  _*'Sides…* and he yawned, __*… she'd murder me in the morning.  And then I couldn't meet Kudo at the park tomorrow afternoon…..  On second thought, maybe I SHOULD leave her down here and let her put me out of my misery.  Nahh, too much work. *  And he curled up a little tighter, resting his head on her ankle._

_*G'nite, Aoko.*  His_ eyes fluttered closed.

* * *

Beside him, Spot surveyed the two humans in his keeping from beneath a paw.  *His* two humans, he supposed; if the male was going to be sticking around his Person, then he might as well adopt him too.  The kitten gave a mental shrug; his mother _had_ told him that the life of a housecat was not an easy one….. responsibilities, responsibilities…..

_**sigh**_

Oh well.  He'd manage.  At least these humans were young and trainable.

He snugged the paw back down over his eyes.  Settling the tip of his tail across his face and between his ears for good measure, the kitten slept.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

_*Dreaming again…  No rest for the wicked.*  _

_Kaito__ leaned against the railing, staring mistrustfully down at the water below for signs of fish.  Behind him the other passengers (a motley lot for the most part, wearing a wide assortment of formal dress; his own white tux-and-tails fitted right in without a problem, for once) talked quietly among themselves, the occasional comment managing to escape the wash of the waves._

_"—and when I ran across him, I said 'I haven't seen you in DECADES!' and he said 'Why break a winning streak?' and then he—"_

_"—have any clue what the hell I'm doing, most of the time; I just keep muddling through and keep multiple passports.  But—"_

_"—and THIS is a picture of my seventy-third great-grandchild…  Isn't she sweet?  She looks so much like her mother, I think—"_

_"—could be worse, my dear.  Consider this: at least we don't have to buy medical insurance…"_

_That last comment had come from a rather distinguished gentleman on the far side of the boat, leaning casually against a lifeboat.  The man glanced up from the young woman to whom he was speaking, a hint of a smile on his face as his gaze met with Kaito's; he gave a polite nod that the young magician returned, his own eyes straying appreciatively to the low-backed dress of the young woman he had been speaking with._

_A wave rocked the boat; there was a fitful rumble of thunder from overhead as everyone caught their balance.  The young woman turned her head, and she was Aoko._

_The last time Kaito had seen her dressed up like this had been during that idiot pool-cue incident, where she had gotten plastered; that had been fun, if nerve-wracking, but the major high point had been just how damned *good* she had looked in fancy dress.  But nearly a year had passed since then and she looked even better now in dark blue… silk? taffeta? whatever the hell that shiny stuff was, with a knot of silver around her neck and tiny motes of rhinestones (or diamonds; this *was* a dream) dusting her bodice like strategically-placed stars.  There was a white rose nestling like a pendent at her throat; he could smell it from where he stood, even above the scent of the sea._

_Well, maybe; or maybe that was everybody else.  EVERYbody was wearing a white rose, either in a lapel or in their hair or in a corsage or wherever; he briefly saw Ayumi scooting through the crowd up by the prow of the boat with a couple of other kids, her own white rosebud gleaming like a moon atop her dark hair.  Kaito fingered his own lapel-rose (he had never worn a flower during a heist; it really looked sort of cool.  Maybe he should start?) and shrugged, wandering towards Aoko as he took a quick look around._

_Huh; pretty big boat—a ship, really, maybe even as big as the Queen Elizabeth if somewhat more old-fashioned, with a huge superstructure and a whole constellation of lights and banners and whatnot; the thing was rigged up like it was about to sail in some sort of nautical parade, as snazzily-dressed as its passengers.  Kaito wondered briefly if it was wearing a white rose somewhere too.  Probably._

_Aoko smiled a little tentatively as he walked up; she looked just a bit nervous, and he realized that she had never seen him in his Kid outfit before (well, not unless you counted the ski-trip incident, which he didn't); that made HIM nervous as well, though he did his best not to show it.  His hat and monocle was off, but the rest was sure there.  *Oh well; at least kaitous are well-dressed thieves; it'd be awful if I was a ninja or something.  Whoever heard of a ninja in a tux?*_

_"Nice party," said Kaito casually, snagging a couple of drinks from a passing waiter's tray; it wasn't that he wanted the alcohol (he wasn't much of a drinker; few magicians were), but he wanted to see if they were what they looked like, so he took an experimental sip as he passed one over to Aoko.  *??  First time I've ever been to a party that served milk…*  He watched bemusedly as the waiter neatly sat a saucer down over by a bulkhead for Spot; the kitten (who wore a tiny rosebud dangling from his collar like a tag) settled in front of the plate with a businesslike air._

_Aoko nodded, either in agreement or mutual confusion as she sipped cautiously at her glass.  She really was looking good; the dark blue set off the flash of her eyes and the high color showing in her cheeks as she watched him watching her, particularly when his gaze inevitably slid down to her legs.  Rather to his surprise she merely reddened, showing no apparent desire to mop-smack him at all; that was encouraging._

_Kaito__ could hear music from somewhere, jazzy and syncopated and punctuated at random by the growing rumbles of skyborn thunder.  Greatly daring, he grinned at Aoko and gave her a very Fred Astair-ish bow; "Wanna dance?"_

_She stared.  "I've never seen you dance before in my whole *life!*"_

_"Oh, hey… this is a dream; who cares?  'Sides, I never get to dance when I'm dressed up like this, and it's made for it, right?"  He gestured at his outfit with a white-gloved hand, then caught her wrist.  "C'mon, why not?"  For a moment she balked, and then as the music segued into something slower and more old-fashioned, Aoko allowed him to pull her through the crowd and onto the open space over where the lights were brightest._

_She was awfully warm in his arms; for once, Kaito felt a little clumsy and unsure of what to do with his hands, not quite certain of how to juggle a live Aoko.  But she solved the whole thing by linking her fingers behind his neck and resting her cheek against his chest (nearly stopping his heart in the process) as their feet seemed to move in a rhythm of their own.  It was easy after that; all he had to do was more or less sway in time to the music… and breathe in the wonderful fragrance of her hair.  She smelled like roses, just like the rest of the night.  The rising wind, the other dancers, even the distant rush and hiss of the waves—everything held a tint of roses, white roses like stars fallen to Earth._

_Every now and then, when he could spare a moment of attention from the discovery of how it felt to dance with Aoko, he would catch a glimpse of the other dancers and the ones who watched from the sidelines.  There was 'Yumi-chan, still with those kids (one of 'em was wearing what looked like a Chinese jacket; interesting.  The other looked almost East Indian); there was that guy who had been talking to Aoko, drink in hand and one amused eyebrow raised.  And that woman there—_

_*…mph; seen her before somewhere…?*_

_She was lounging against a column of some sort; you had to call it lounging, because 'leaning' didn't show that much cleavage.  Her long, dark hair fell over one shoulder in an elaborate weave of strands and gold chains, and the soft folds of her wine-colored dress wrapped around her like smoke.  She smiled, her green eyes glittering with amusement as if she felt his gaze resting on her; a distant firefly of lightning brought their color out with startling clarity as he turned his head towards her, frowning.  Where the *hell* had he seen her before?_

_"What's wrong?  Kaito?"  The girl in his arms was looking up now; instantly he dropped his attention back to her, his own eyes softening as he shook his head in silent reply and then held her a little more tightly and tried to dance._

_Mostly, though, he just held her close and sort of swayed in place.  She didn't seem to mind._

_A little while later—or maybe it was a long while; hard to tell, really—they took a break, collecting another couple of glasses of milk and joining Ayumi over by the railing.  The little girl was (much to Kaito's amusement and barely-restrained glee) wearing a white dress that had more than a hint of a tuxedo about it, with a short white jacket over a fluffy skirt, ruffles at the throat and tiny pearl buttons down the closure; her dark hair was pulled back, crowned with a single rosebud.  She waved madly as they approached; Spot wound around her ankles a few times before sitting down to lick at a paw in a dignified fashion._

_Her teacher chuckled, beaming down in approval.  "All you need," he told her, "is a deck of cards and a top-hat.  No, scratch that—no hat; you'd hide your rose."_

_The child wrinkled her nose in a frown.  "Then what'll I pull rabbits and doves out of, if I don't have a hat?"  Leaning on the railing beside her, Aoko laughed._

_Kaito__ thought for a minute; it was a reasonable question (well, at least in a dream it was reasonable), and she *was* his apprentice.  "Hm; how about… no, that won't work….. uhhh…. Ah!  Got it!"  He rummaged around in one pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief, unknotting it from a long string of attached scarves.  He draped it over one closed fist and then solemnly looked down at his student.  "What do I do next, hm?  Remember what I told you?"  On either side he was beginning to gather a few interested looks from the crowd, who could apparently spot good theater as well as anyone._

_Ayumi hesitated.  "You—say some magic words?"_

_"Yup!"__  The young magician grinned, then waved his free hand over the handkerchief and intoned:  "Theophrastus… Bombastus… Von Hohenheim!"_

_**POOF!!!**  The handkerchief exploded into no less than four white doves; to the surprised, appreciative  murmurs of the onlookers they fluttered up for a moment, and then descended to settle on Kaito's head and shoulders.  He shrugged at Aoko's widened eyes as if to say 'Go figure' and chuckled, ignoring the bird that was currently pecking at his hair.  Ayumi dissolved into giggles; Spot merely flattened his ears._

_"Nicely done."__  The comment came from the green-eyed woman he had seen before, the familiar-looking one; she had sauntered up and was smiling at them from the edges of the crowd.  "You're quite good with tricks, aren't you?  Magicians… I remember how it was with magicians—they were always learning new tricks, always showing them off at court."  Beside Kaito the Inspector's daughter frowned, a slightly introspective look on her face as if she were trying to recall something.  The older woman looked down from her elegant height at Ayumi, who returned her gaze calmly.  "And are you learning  new tricks too, little one?"_

_Kaito__ kept his eyes and voice neutral as he answered, but his quartet of doves abruptly took off into the darkness beyond the hanging lights.  "Court?  Never been to court, I'm afraid.  And I've definitely never done any tricks there…"  He smiled slightly.  "But I'll be sure to bring my *best ones* with me if I ever get caught and have to go, ne?"  Aoko elbowed him in the ribs.  "Ouch…"_

_The woman merely laughed, and that was what triggered a thread of memory:  something about a stream and a silver cup…..  The thief shook his head.  "Anyway, this is all a dream," he said abruptly; "You can do all sorts of things in dreams.  Tricks are easy in dreams."_

_She nodded as if he had proved a point for her.  "Quite.  It's real life that's the problem for most of us…  But as you said, this is a dream; and we're all under the rose here anyway, aren't we?"_

_"'Under the rose'?__  'Sub __Rosa_'?"___  Aoko was looking a little perturbed; she scooted just a bit closer to Kaito, not as if seeking protection but more as if about to offer it.  "I've heard that before; it means that you can speak the truth and it'll be kept secret, right?"  She eyed the green-eyed woman with a certain suspicion.  "What's that got to do with dreams?"_

_The woman shrugged, her shoulders moving parts of her body in a very distracting manner, considering how low-cut her dress was; Kaito wrenched his wandering attention back to what she was saying.  "Simply this:  People seldom lie in dreams.  So, then:  do you have questions you'd like to ask?  Or do you yet know enough to *ask* questions?"  She took in their confused expressions and sighed.  "Ah well, later then, after you learn a few more… tricks.  We're about to strike the iceberg, in any case."  She smiled a small, amused smile.  "Thank you for the magic show; it was delightful."  And she reached forward, gently touching the rose crowning Ayumi's hair.  "I look forward to seeing what marvels you learn as well, little one."  With that she turned and walked away, melting into the crowd like a cat into a darkened alley._

_Kaito's__ eyes had widened; he looked over Ayumi's head at Aoko, who was beginning to go a trifle bug-eyed herself.  "Iceberg?  **ICEBERG?!?"**_

_"Of course," came the woman's rather merry voice from somewhere in the crowd; "That's how this dream *always* ends….."_

_….. and suddenly the ship shuddered and jarred, a tremendous crashing cacophony breaking through the music and voices; oddly enough, there were few screams as people all around them staggered and slid on the tilting deck.  Aoko yelped and grabbed for her companions, who were simultaneously grabbing for her; Spot wailed and scrambled up and over her head to perch on her shoulder as the entire crowd began sliding sideways in a lurching, bewildering tumult of arms and legs and darkness.  Over everything a ship's alarm began to blare out:  **BWEEP!!**BWEEP!!**BWEEP!!**BWEEP!!**_

_**BWEEP!!**BWEEP!!**  Kaito swore, hanging onto the railing with one arm and Ayumi with the other as Aoko wrapped her arms around his neck in a near-stranglehold; the deck was twisting beneath them, splinters flying everywhere.  All the lights had gone out, but there was just enough skyglow from the stormclouds left to see the crowd dropping into the chill, dark waters below with hardly an outcry; there went the older gentleman he had seen earlier, and there went the green-eyed woman right after him, laughing….._

_**BWEEP!!**BWEEP!!**BWEEP!!**  The alarm was getting louder, shrilling in his ears and making his head pound; the sound was…_

_…the sound was….._

….. the sound was his wristwatch alarm going off.   And he was AWAKE, sitting up with a yelp even as Aoko let out a sort of strangled screech and flipped halfway over beside him, all tangled up in the blanket.  _"MMPH!!__  @#$%!?!"  Next to her Spot jumped in alarm, his fur bristling.  The kitten gave himself several very fast licks to smooth his fur, and Aoko pulled him into her arms in sleep-muddled confusion.  "Whuhhh?  K-Kaito--?  --Oh; I, uh, fell asleep down here, I was waiting for you—"_

He scratched at his hair, making it stand even more on end as he gathered his wits.  "…Yeah… I came in pretty late, and I, uh…" he became aware of the fact that they had been sleeping cuddled up together against one another; he could still feel the heat of her body against his, and from the look on _her_ face so could she.

Rather hastily she shoved her hair out of her face, obviously casting around for something to say.  "Um…. Oh!  Right!  Kaito?  This… room?  I read about it in your notebooks, and it's… all this, this _equipment and everything—"  Her eyes roamed up and down the shelves, growing wider as recollections from the previous evening's reading set in.  "I wanted to ask you about—"_

Kaito's own eyes bulged at the very *thought* of explaining some of the stuff in the room.  There were tons of gadgets that he hadn't even begun to try, things that he only had the faintest of clues about (his dad hadn't been the world's most organized of kaitous, and labeling had been, apparently, something that *other* people did so far as he was concerned).  And as for some of the stuff that he _WAS familiar with….. like the smoke bombs and the sonic grenades, the heat-emitters and the sleep-gas… and then there were the new gizmos the 'Nakamori Specials'….._

….. and he HAD put a label on that bin, come to think of it.  And drawn little caricatures, too.

_*Ooooh.  Distraction time, or I'm toast.  Burned toast.  I do NOT, repeat NOT want to go through this right now-----*_   His now-silent watch caught his eye then, and he yelped:****_"LATE!!_  We're gonna be LATE!!!"

"Huh?  What?  But—"

"Ask me later!  _SCHOOL, okay?  Education, right!!  Gotta get ready for school, don't want to be late—c'mon, c'mon, go go go!!!"  He scrambled to his feet, yanking her up as he went.  "You can have the first shower, c'mon, hot water's waiting for you, I'll, uh, go fix something we can eat on the way…"  Propelling Aoko's protesting body in front of his, Kaito bulled them both through the hidden door at a double-time pace.  "Go Speed Aoko!  __Hup__-two-three-four, _HUP_-two-three-four, _HUP-_two-th--- OWW!!  Why'd you hit me?  Brute…  Come ON, we gotta hurry—"_

The door swung shut behind them with a quiet click.  Amidst the bedding on the floor, Spot yawned and went back to sleep, a small white furry iceberg in a blanket-sea.

***********************************************************************************************

_*School… boring, boring, mind-numbing school…..*_  Conan grumbled to himself, leaning on one elbow and attempting to keep awake as Teacher lectured the class on the unspeakable, Earth-shattering importance of writing one's kanji-strokes in the proper order.   Hoping that she would mistake his glassy-eyed stare for one of interest, he began one of his usual mental exercises in order to keep conscious and not embarrass himself by falling out of the desk.  

_*Okay, start at the far right of the class this time:  Desk #1—Makinoto Seimei.  Let's see… ah; he stubbed his toe last night.  He was limping on his right foot when he came into class, but not too badly, and I saw a band-aid when he changed shoes.  Next, Desk #2—Ijire Teiko.  Hm; uhhh, she's got… oh, right.  She got her ears pierced!  She was talking about it yesterday; must've gone last night with her parents and had it done.  Cute little girl, she'll be a terror when she grows up.  Desk #3—Furikara 'Binto Box' Yuki, the World's Fastest-Eating Kid.  Nothing much new about him today, except that he keeps squirming.  Must need a bathroom break.  Desk #4, Nikki Akina…..*_

He had a dozen or more ways of keeping his mind busy, but this one always got used several times per week:  the 'What's New With My Classmates?' study.  Conan sighed; he was sure it helped keep his senses sharp and all that, but it was so *damned* boring when one of the highlights of your day was noticing that your sempai two rows over apparently had had eggs for breakfast.

Kudo Shinichi smothered a yawn inside Conan's head; outside, the faux gradeschooler bit down on the end of his pencil to fight back the same.

The boy snuck a look at Rin, smothering a reluctant grin when he saw her doodling.  She was going to get in trouble for that again if she was caught…  Teacher did _not_ like inattentive students.  What was it this time, anyway, little drawings?  She seemed to be a bit more intent on her 'work' than usual; he craned his neck just a bit to get a glimpse.

Ah; so that was it—she was drawing tiny pictures of flowers and branches for Ayumi's fan.  When Mouri Ran had been a young girl of eleven or twelve she had taken a Summer arts class in hand-painting flat paper fans called _uchiwa__, the kind people carried at festivals.  Ayumi had seen the ones she had kept; they were amateur work, but they were really pretty good (Shinichi still had one tucked away in his old room back at his own house, a gift during the Obon festival the year they both turned thirteen), and the little girl had wistfully wished for one herself.  Rin was planning to surprise her._

Conan watched the pencil in the small fingers as it carefully drew a leaf; it looked like she was going for a camellia theme.  Good; maybe that'd get their young friend's mind off of a certain thief with weird tastes in working clothes—he'd feel a lot happier if he knew she was thinking about something else.  Fat chance, though; shooting a surreptitious glance sideways, he could see the edges of a pack of cards poking out of one of the little girl's pockets.

_*And she's getting pretty good with that stuff too.  Speaking of a certain thief…..  Suggesting that we meet in the park was a BAD idea, considering who I saw watching it yesterday.  Dammit—I'm gonna have to figure out some way of meeting him before he gets to that tree--*_  The boy had done just a bit of research that morning before leaving for school; a few prods and pokes around the Internet had dug up the facts that one Kuroba Kaito was a senior at Ekoda High School; a little *further* prodding dug up several term papers that the teenager had posted online at one of the school's project sites (and it had been more than a little surreal reading the homework of an internationally wanted criminal; Kuroba was pretty damned intelligent, if easily bored).

_*Let's see—I'll get out of school at three, he gets out at __three thirty__, if I really book it I can get to the park maybe a few minutes before him.  Crap.  This is my fault; I asked him to show up there, and if he does… and They do too…..*  _

The fact that the Kuroba youth's perch would make an excellent target for a sniper had not escaped him. It wasn't really that likely that they were planning to take him out that way, not if they had him under surveillance; for some reason, all of their attempts on Kuroba's life had happened during his other self's heists, never while in his 'civilian' persona.  

On the other hand, if they changed their minds…..  

Conan's fingers tightened on his pencil, nearly snapping it.  Rin paused in her doodling, a line of worry appearing between her brows as she turned a bit to watch him; she could always tell when he was stressing over something.

_*I'll deal with it; I have to.  It'll be my fault if he gets shot down like one of his damned doves.*_

A movement from Teacher caught his eye; she was looking his way as she passed out the markers and special paper for their fledgling attempts at kanji, so he attempted to appear attentive.  Internally, however, he groaned; the rest of the day was going to pass with all the speed of—of _*ink*_ drying.

_*But when it's over…..*_

***********************************************************************************************

In the meantime, school was going at about the same rate for the upper grades as well.  Kaito stretched surreptitiously as his instructor turned back to the whiteboard, chattering on about some obscure historical point of the Edo Period.  _*Like I'm interested in the battle of Sekigahara or the Tokugawa shoguns or any of that stuff; as 'Yumi-chan would say, booooooorrrrrring…..*_

He had managed to derive some amusement from the way he was being watched, at least; the young magician had found himself in the crosshairs of a three-way scrutiny by Aoko, Akako and Hakuba, which tickled his sense of humor in the extreme.  Aoko, for instance, kept sending him the oddest looks; there was a lot of speculation there, and occasionally a trace of a blush (which made him tingle internally… just what _*was* she thinking about, hmmm?).  Akako was looking rather puzzled and more than a bit disturbed—had she picked up on the change in relationship between him and the Inspector's daughter?  Probably, and that might lead to trouble if he wasn't careful.  _*Might lead to trouble even if I am careful; with the Witch, you never know.  Bet she nails me at lunchtime for details.*_  _

And then, of course, there was the third watcher…..

Hakuba Saguru was, quite frankly, staring at him; the poor idiot probably didn't even realize it.  Not for the first time Kaito wondered at the would-be-detective's occasional blind spots, chalking it up to unavoidable blonde genes (they had to come out _somewhere,_ he supposed).  For a long moment he considered doing something like batting his eyelashes or blowing the guy a kiss, which would definitely rattle his brains, but dismissed the thought in favor of staring blatantly back while slowwwwwwly crossing his eyes.

It was really funny to see Hakuba's eyes begin to cross as well…..  Kaito snickered quietly to himself as the half-Britisher blinked hard several times and then pointedly turned away.

_*There.*  He_ bit back a grin and glanced at the clock; lunchtime was still twenty minutes away, dammit, and he was _hungry._  He ALWAYS seemed to be hungry lately—  At a growl from his stomach he winced; behind him, Keiko-kun giggled.   Of course, this _was Keiko, and she could be counted on to giggle at roughly 87% of any given stimulus, with a standard deviation of ±1.3; Kaito had actually worked this up for a project in math class at one point (hey, they had just said to 'create a mathematical model of a given statistical norm over a period of time', they hadn't said what _of).  __

Sometimes he wondered about the girl.  Other times he plotted ways of trapping Hakuba with her in a closet, which was nearly as amusing as the thought of trapping him with Akako…..

Kaito yawned.  _*C'mon, lunch!*  The teacher continued to drone on.  __*Have mercy on a poor, pitiful starving thief…..*_

Time passed slowly, but it passed; eventually lunchtime came and went (during which he managed to avoid getting bushwhacked by the sorceress by spending an inordinate time in the Men's Room—not that he expected that to keep her out if she _really_ wanted to find him, but it would at least cause a delay.  He planned to scream like a little girl if she showed up while he was, errr, busy.)  

The magician was just heading back to his seat afterwards when a voice from behind him made him pause.  "Kuroba-kun."

He turned around, keeping his face straight as he slid into his seet backwards, straddling the chair and hanging over the back.  "And what can I do for you, Hakuba-kun?"  It was an effort not to cross his eyes.

The blonde eyed him coldly.  "You can stop stalking me in that ridiculous trenchcoat and hat of yours.  You're not fooling anyone, you know."  As Kaito stared in surprise, Hakuba frowned slightly.  "I'll admit, it was a good disguise… but I'd appreciate it if you'd stop."  He reached down to pull a textbook from the small briefcase that many of the older students carried.  "I'm sure you can find better things to do with your time than stake out my home."

His sempai eyed him dubiously.  "That hasn't stopped _you,_ I've noticed….."  Hakuba's occasional surveillance from the bus-stop was old news by now.  _This_ little claim, on the other hand, was _not._  Either the afore-mentioned blonde genes were finally getting to old Saguru in a big way or--  "Soooo… just when did I, uh, start 'stalking' you, hm?  And," he continued carefully, keeping it casual, "just what color trenchcoat are we talking about?  Brown, blue, chartreuse?"

_*This had better not be what it sounds like…*_

The Britisher glanced up, those strange amber eyes of his reflecting back the light like his hawk's would.  "Don't act more foolish than Nature has already made you, Kuroba.  You know perfectly well that you spent most of yesterday evening shadowing me and watching my house," he answered flatly.  "If you had worn something less obvious than a black trenchcoat I might have missed you, but I suppose the drama was too great to pass up."  There was a faint thread of uncertainty in his voice as he added, "…That _*was*_ you, of course…..?"

Kaito hesitated; suddenly the collar of his school uniform seemed a bit too tight as something cold seemed to creep down his spine.  "You just keep thinking that, okay, Hakuba?" he said slowly, the humor leaking out of his voice.  "And while you're at it, you might want to stay out of dark alleyways for a while."

_*Black.  Oh shit oh dear.  Guess they ARE watching me, and now he's gotten himself on the list by contagion.  I… think maybe I'd better talk to Kudo but quick, and maybe at some place other than the park—if they've been trailing me as well, they know I go there.*_

His classmate sat his textbook down on the desk with a soft thump; it was hard to read exactly what was going on behind that , half-Gaijin face (personally Kaito had always thought Hakuba looked *amazingly* like Biggles from reprints of old English Sunday funnies), but he thought that the guy was now a little wary.  "For your information, I don't tend to hang around 'dark alleyways' as a rule," he answered rather stiffly.  "Am I to take it that you claim to be not guilty—of _*this,*_ anyway?"

_*Ooooh, sarcasm; I'm wounded to the quick.*  The_ young magician blinked.  "You can believe whatever you'd like; just take a little extra care, would you?  And as for the dark alleyways… what you do in your time outside school is your OWN business, 'Saguru-chan'..."  He beamed innocently at the other.

"Hmph."  The blonde teenager did not look impressed, studiously ignoring the overly-familiar diminutive.  He opened his textbook as the rest of the class filed in, and as far as anyone else could have told put the entire thing out of his analytical, detail-obsessed mind.  As far as *anyone else* could tell….. but then Kaito wasn't just anyone, and he tended to notice things about people like their mannerisms and habits.

Did Hakuba realize that his left foot twitched when he was getting a case of nerves?  It was almost funny, really, sort of like the tail-tip of an upset cat, flicking back and forth; and knowing Hakuba Sugaru, it was probably moving at precise one-second intervals.

Their instructor was droning on about—oh right; they had a field trip coming up… tomorrow?!?  _*Crap!  Tomorrow!  I forgot--*  For reasons unknown to gods or man, it had been decided earlier that the Senior year students would benefit from a trip to Kyoto's brand-new Industrial Science Museum.  Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your interest in things industrial) Kaito had gotten his permission slip signed a couple of weeks earlier.  Grumbling, the thief waved a mental goodbye to his plans for the next few days; no help for it.  __*So much for getting any heist-planning done; can't do a damned thing in the middle of a school trip…..*_

_*….. or **can** we?*_  He thought hard, chewing on the tip of his pencil in contemplation.  Going out of town wasn't too bad an idea when you got right down to it; he and Aoko would be sort of like a pair of fish (he shuddered) in the middle of a school (and that wasn't too bad a pun, either).  Camoflage of the best sort: being where you were supposed to be but not where the bad guys _wanted_ you to be.

And…  Kyoto…..  It had been a long time since he had done a heist in Kyoto, hadn't it?  It had.  _*This next one's gonna be set up to draw out the bad guys; I wouldn't mind having 'em busy a little ways from home, not at all.  It'll be sort of a pain, handling things out of town, but I've done it before.  Wonder if Aoko has any relatives or whatever that we could stay with up there for a few days?  What kind of excuse would be feasible?  She could go out of town for safety-reasons, but as for me….. this might take a little work.*_

_*Speaking of Aoko--*  She_  was beginning to eye Kaito with a little concern from her desk; he must have been being too quiet.  He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring grin, pulling out his own textbook and flipping it open to where they had left off.  Not that he intended to pay it much attention….. he had too much to think about.

_*Like trips, possible heist locations, catching the Shrimp before he leaves school and ditching any would-be stalkers of my own.  Hm; speaking of ditching…*  A_ sudden idea made his eyebrows rise; he settled back into his usual bored Kaito-face, plans fermenting behind the façade.

The next break came nearly an hour later; with a quick, whispered explanation to Aoko (who took it with a worried glare) he slipped off to a quiet little alcove beneath a school stairway; there was a janitor's closet there that the wall-baffles managed to soundproof well enough that it would serve his purpose.  "Good thing I snitched Mom's cellphone this morning," he muttered, flipping it open as he closed the door.  He needed no light; the glow from the tiny number-pad and readout was enough for him to dial the number for Ekoda High's front office.  A quick clearing of the throat, a tightening of _this_ and a relaxing of _that, _and the voice that answered the bored student on the other end was that of one Kuroba Hikarue, widow of Kuroba Toichi and mother to Kuroba Kaito…..

Three or four minutes later had him stepping back out of the closet, a satisfied smile on his face.  _*That ought to do it.*  Sure enough, the overhead speakers buzzed and began to blare out a request for one Kuroba Kaito to step into the office even as he reached his next class.  Aoko scowled in his general direction; the young woman looked more than a little grouchy at being left behind.  "So *that's* how you managed to miss that science test two weeks ago," she muttered, fingers twitching as if she wanted a mop.  _

He merely grinned, hefting his backpack.  "I took the make-up test, didn't I?"  Granted, it had been the following Monday, but it was the _principal of the thing that mattered.  "Listen," Kaito said, turning a little more serious; he lowered his voice.  "I learned a few things last night that—well, I don't think it'd be a good idea if you went straight to my house from here.  Can you, I dunno, catch a ride to the police station or something?"_

Her scowl deepened, edging over from annoyed into perplexed.  "I… suppose so; dad said to call a number he gave me if I got worried—they'll send somebody by to pick me up.  Why, though?"  

Dammit; there was worry in her voice as well.  _*Clumsy, Thief Boy; you can do better than that.*  He shook his head, doing his best to look reassuring; it wasn't easy.  "Just—Look, I'll tell you on the way home, okay?  Wait for me there; I won't be too long.  I _*PROMISE*_ I'll tell you, I swear, on my honor as a Kuroba….."  Remembering his repentant apology to Himitsu-san the night before he dropped dramatically to one knee with one hand over his heart.  "No more secrets, remember?"  The last was softer, and the eyes that looked up at Aoko held more than the usual playfulness in their depths._

She forgot her anger for a second, stepping a little closer.  "You'd _better,_ then.  If there's one thing I plan on doing, it's making sure that you keep your promises."  There was a hint of something new in her face as well, and from across the room the two watchers from earlier all saw it.  Three, really; Keiko had paused halfway to her desk, and an expression of utter glee was beginning to stage a takeover.

"Heh; fine—my mom always said that I needed a keeper…"  With a flourish he presented her with a scarlet chrysanthemum from out of nowhere; she took it reluctantly, tucking it into her hair with the air of one accepting an apology.  "I'm all out of roses," he added, standing up.  "I'll see you later, okay?"  Beyond them Keiko's eyes were as wide as saucers; Hakuba and Akako were both looking distinctly miffed.

"Okay… but be careful."  Aoko's own eyes gained a little of their earlier fire.  "Don't make me have to come after you," she growled.

Kaito grinned.  "Wouldn't _dream_ of it.  Seeya at the stationhouse!"  Whistling softly, he headed off towards the front office and the entirely fake pass home that awaited him there.

***********************************************************************************************

Ten minutes later…..

A block and a half away from Ekoda High School, a black-jacketed young woman with a bland, hard-jawed face dug in her purse for her cellphone and swore viciously.  Her assignment had been simple:  to watch the Kuroba boy and report any deviations from his usual patterns of movement.  And now the little bastard had just headed off-campus two goddamn hours ahead of schedule—AND given her the slip in the process; who knew he could move so fricking fast?!?  She was good at what she did, or they wouldn't have assigned her to a top-priority surveillance job—how the hell had he managed to lose her--??

The woman's fingers shook as she punched in a number.  If there was one thing that she had learned in her short, violent career, it was that her superiors did _not look well on failure.  Agents who did not live up to their expectations frequently failed to live at _*all.*__

***********************************************************************************************

_*@#$%!!*  Conan_ was late, late, late…

_*And if Vodka or whoever decides to take a sniper-rifle to the park with him, Kuroba may be late as well, dammit!  The DEAD kind of late.*  He_ pounded through the hallways of his school, skidding a little in his scuffs before thudding to a halt and quickly changing into his tennishoes.  _*WHY did the entire idiot school have to take part in a goddamn fire-drill this afternoon?!?  Why today of all days?  Somebody Up There really, really hates my guts.*  Jerking the last lace into the sort of Gordian Knot that he would later on probably have to cut, the boy scrambled for the door.  _

_*No skateboard—gonna have to just run like hell to make it to the park, maybe I can catch him before he gets to the tree--*_  He was no longer allowed to bring his skateboard to school, not after that little episode in the stairwell…..  He hadn't *meant* to be caught showing off for Rin; even now, the memory (and the chewing out he got from Eri) was enough to make his ears burn.

_*Hurry up, Kudo, get those short little legs moving!!  Wonder where Rin is, anyway?  Oh--*  He_ backpedaled furiously to avoid plowing straight into the object of his conjecture, who watched with both concern and amusement from the sidewalk just out the gate.  "Rin?  C'mon, we've got to—"

She surveyed him, hands on hips.  "—head to the park?  Not anymore, so calm down, Shinichi," the former Mouri Ran said softly; "There's… somebody here to talk to you."

"???"  Panting a little, he peered past the girl.  **"!!!"**

Leaning all too nonchalantly against the fence surrounding the school was a half-familiar figure, rather lanky, with a shock of dark brown hair and expressive eyes that dominated his thin face.  Kuroba Kaito seemed to be enjoying himself; Ayumi, Genta and Mitsuhiko sure were, listening intently to the young magician's chatter.  _*That—**that's**—what the—what's he--*  As Conan dazedly shook his head and tried to assimilate that he had once again been one-upped by the Kaitou Kid, he heard:_

"Okay now, from the top:  What do you do if you run into any scary-looking guys in black trenchcoats?"

Genta, Ayumi and Mitsuhiko looked at each other and then back at their instructor, grinning.  All three chorused:  "Scream _'PERVERT!!!'_ and run like crazy!"

"Aaaaand what do you do if they try to grab you?"

"Yell _'FIRE!!!"_ as loud as we can, right?  Andthenkickthemreallyreallyhardandwhentheydropuswe_RUN__!" put in Mitsuhiko eagerly; Kuroba nodded.  Genta sulked briefly, having been too slow on the draw._

Beside him Ayumi scowled.  "You said we could yell _'FLASHER!!!'_ too, didn't you, Hei-san?….. What IS a flasher, anyway?"

"Uhhhh… I'll explain someday when you're older."  Kuroba looked momentarily uncomfortable, scratching his head.

"You….. will….. **_NOT_**_!!!" gritted out Edogawa Conan, stomping up and shoving his way between the kids and their 'tutor.'  "What the hell do you mean, telling them things like—like—  What are you--  __Gaaaahhhhhh_!!!"_  He grabbed at his own hair, wondering if he should just tear it all out right then and get it over with.  "WHY are you here?!?"_

"Conan-kun, you're being *rude.*  Don't yell at Hei-san!" said Ayumi sternly, hands on hips.  The girl glared at him from her slightly taller height; to either side Genta and Mitsuhiko looked puzzled.  "He said he was waiting to talk to you, and that we could all walk with him to—where did you say you had to go?"  

She turned back to the teenager, who smiled angelically down at her.  "Gotta stop by the library.  You know the one down on Yomiko and Fourth?  I need to find some books on Kyoto for a class project…  Wanna go?"

Conan opened his mouth to verbally slay the thief in front of him, but the rather pointed pressure of two hands gripping either shoulder from behind cut him off sharply; Rin had quite a grasp for such a small girl.  "Fine," she said quietly.  "And while we're walking, you can tell us just _*why*_ you're here at our school gates, talking about something that shouldn't be mentioned in public."  She let go and stepped around to stand beside the boy, her shoulder brushing his.

"What, 'flashers'?"  Kuroba chuckled, then sobered a bit.  He shot them both a slightly contrite glance as the small group began to head down the sidewalk.  "Yeah, yeah, I know… but 'Yumi-chan said you had told the Terrible Trio here about the, uhhh, bad guys…"  Genta, Mitsuhiko and Ayumi looked smug, not at all offended by their new designation.  "So I figured it was okay, so long as we kept it down."

Fighting back an urge to let the thief Have It With The Shoes, the former Kudo Shinichi forced his tone to something approaching civility for Ayumi's sake (and to keep Rin from throttling him).  "That… was *not* what I'd call 'keeping it down.'  You were right in front of the school—"

The teenager shrugged, hands in pockets as he sauntered along.  "So I was," he agreed pleasantly.  "But I was pretty careful getting here; I took a route that I very much doubt the baddies could trace… _trust me on that one.  You'd be amazed just how easy it is to move without being seen, if you have enough keys and aren't afraid of heights."_

Conan bit back a reply; between her friend and her teacher, Ayumi blinked thoughtfully.  "I'd like to do that; I'm not scared of heights.  Could you show me someday, Hei-san?"

_*AACK.*_   The boy's eyes bulged.  "Maybe," smiled Hei-san.

Rin's gaze sharpened perceptibly; for a moment there was a strong flavor of _Ran_ there, just about to square off with an opponent at a karate match.  The teenager watching her became aware of it and then peered down at Conan's face as well; what he saw there made him swallow hard and hold up a placating hand.  "Let's, ahh, talk about that later, okay, 'Yumi-chan?  In the interests of peace and quiet and self-preservation and not being shoved out into traffic or having my knees broken….."

Despite this, the walk was anything but peaceful.  The two male members of the Terrible Trio quizzed Kuroba Kaito regarding magic, juggling, and a multitude of other subjects until they were actually going in through the library's glass-and-metal doors.  "After you," said the older boy politely; the kids rambled through, dropping their voices as they entered the environs of the stern-faced librarians, who peered at them somewhat suspiciously from the desks.

"Why here?" asked Conan quietly; he had managed to get a grip on his temper by now (a small one, but it _was_ a grip at least).  "Why the library?"  Rin kept a wary eye on them both as they headed towards the adult stacks; Genta, Ayumi and Mitsuhiko had already gone ahead in the direction of the children's books, chattering about magic tricks in what they doubtless considered to be whispers.

Kuroba raised an eyebrow.  "You know another place where people can talk very, very quietly without looking suspicious?  We can sit right out in the open if we want and talk about whatever, and all people will think is that I'm your big brother or something."  He snickered.  "You _did say that we look a lot alike…"_

Conan shuddered at the idea.  "So why didn't you just wait at the park?  You seemed pretty eager to get away last night—"   A passing librarian made shushing noises and he forced his voice back down; dammit, it kept creeping up!  _*What IS it about this guy that keeps rattling me?  Is it just that he knows our secret, or is it that he's a criminal? Or maybe it's just that he's such a goddamn smartass…*_

_*… or maybe… it's because, if I let myself, I'd probably get along with him.  Maybe even like him; in some ways he reminds me of Heiji.  Rrrgh!*_

The thief shrugged again, turning down an aisle and briefly scanning the call-letters on the spines of the nearest books; he kept walking slowly, obviously looking for something.  "I thought about it; if they're watching me, they know where I go and when I go there.  A park's not the safest place on the planet to be if you're being tracked—too public, too wide-open, too little cover."  He slid out a book and frowned at the title, then slid it back in, wandering a bit further.  "If you're being hunted, the first thing you do is break your trail—y'know, change the pattern you've been setting.  So I broke my trail.  'Sides, believe it or not, I *do* need a book on Kyoto for school….."

Rin spoke up quietly.  "But why involve the others?  You could have left them out of it—"

At that Kuroba rolled his eyes.  "Hate to tell you two this, but they were all talking it over when they came out of your school.  I figured that maybe a word or two of advice wouldn't hurt, considering that the bigger kid—Genta-kun, right?—was making plans to go hunting for black trenchcoats this weekend.  Think they mentioned looking for 'em in the train stations….."

Conan drew in a sharp breath, feeling just a touch light-headed; beside him Rin had gone rather white.  The older boy nodded down at them, all the humor gone from his expressive eyes for a moment.  "Yeah; you understand now, huh?"  He pulled another book from the shelf, flipping through it before tucking it beneath one arm.  "By the way, I'm, um, sorry I freaked out on you last night.  Can we sort of pick up where we left off?  I haven't got a lot of time before I have to head out—"  He looked a little shamefaced as well as hopeful, still walking; they reached the end of the aisle and sat down at a study-carrel with a good view of most of the room.

Rin and Conan looked at each other silently, then nodded as one.  "Fine," said the boy softly.  "But no more taking off in a panic.  If you screw up, _WE_ get screwed as well.  Okay?"

Kuroba considered this, then nodded as well.  "Deal."  He sat back and prepared to listen.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Bye, Hei-san!"  Ayumi-kun waved at her teacher as they parted on the library steps, two new books on prestidigitation in her backpack.  "I'll see you next week… and I'm glad you're feeling better now."  She cocked her head to one side as she stared up at him quizzically.  "It's funny, but you don't even look like you even _got_ sh— mmph!"

The magician shook his head reproachfully, removing his hand from her mouth.  "Loose lips sink ships, y'know, 'Yumi-chan… so hush on the 'feeling better' stuff, okay?"  He was looking considerably chastened by now (or as chastened as he ever got, which wasn't much so far as Conan and Rin could tell).  The past hour's conversation had been enough to impress him with the absolute necessity for cooperation, although the former Kudo Shinichi couldn't quite bring himself to trust him.  And from the occasional careful, considering glance he was receiving, Kuroba felt the same way.

At one point Rin had informed them both quite straightly that if they didn't manage to get along and stop with the glares she would swat them both; Conan had subsided with a mutter, but the teenager from Ekoda High had raised an eyebrow.  "And how do you plan on doing that?" he had asked, one corner of his mouth twitching.

She had smiled up at him, and Conan had suddenly grown very wary; he knew _that smile, from times past when he had well and truly pissed Ran off.  "Oh… I'd find a way."  And Kuroba had blinked once and then given in immediately, thus upping his adversary's estimation of his intelligence another notch._

And he _*was*_ intelligent, damned intelligent.  Those sharp eyes missed nothing—not a clue, not a possibility, and not a chance to needle the boy he insisted on calling 'Kudo'.  Not for the first time Conan found himself wondering what Kuroba would have been like if Fate had not made him the Kaitou Kid…..

But now he was heading down the steps.  "Keep working on those hand-slides, 'Yumi-chan; you're coming along just fine.  See you lot later, okay?  Got somebody waiting for me, and she'll swat me if I don't show up soon."  He waved cheerfully, hefting his backpack with one hand.  "And… be careful, will you?"  That last was rather softer.  "I don't have a lot of friends; I'd hate to lose any to… bad luck."

Conan traded a startled glance with Rin.  _*Friends?*_

Mitsuhiko waved too.  "Bad luck?"  The freckled gradeschooler had checked out a small stack of beginner's books on radio-controlled airplanes, a new passion of his.  "I don't believe in luck…"

Hei-san paused.  "You don't?  **_I_ do.  But y'know, most people let unlucky things *happen* to them; that's bad luck.  Me—" and he settled the backpack into place with a fluid twist of his shoulders; "—I prefer to make my _*own*_ luck… and most of the time it's good.  Not always, but often enough.  Jaa ne!"  He sprinted lightly down the stairs out into the early evening and was gone.**

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"You're LATE."  Aoko was sitting just inside the stationhouse lobby, arms crossed and murder in her eyes; she had obviously had time enough to steam.

Kaito backpedaled, ready to dodge being bludgeoned at any second.  "Sorry, sorry— that little piece of 'homework' of mine took longer than I thought."  He gave her his most contrite look; it was a good one, and he had had plenty of opportunities to perfect it.  "You need to pick anything up from your dad's office before we go?"  The girl still looked more than a little sulky as she shook her head, so he added "Look, I'll pick us up dinner on the way back as an apology, okay?  But it'll have to be noodles or something—I'm not exactly independently wealthy, y'know."  The thief spread his hands in front of him.  "I think we're gonna be too busy tonight for either of us to cook….."

The Inspector's daughter seemed to prick up her ears.  "Oh?"  They both jumped slightly as a rather prominent sound of throat-clearing from over by the elevator made them turn.  For some reason, they had an audience; no less than four officers that Kaito recognized as working with Aoko's father were lounging, standing around or otherwise loitering in the general area… and _watching_ them.

With smiles on their faces.  *Smug* ones.  From the corner of his eye, Kaito saw that his companion had turned beet-red.  "Uhhh… Aoko?  Is there something I should know, maybe?"

"…………no………."

"Uh huh.  So why are we such an object of interest, hm?"  His own cheeks were beginning to burn from the sheer attention, and those smiles were getting _bigger.  Kaito had known the four officers more or less for quite a while, through visiting with Aoko; but if he didn't know better, he'd almost call their expressions __leers—_

One of the watchers chuckled and called out "Nice flower, Aoko-chan!" just as the elevator door opened.  With many a backwards look, the four headed up and out of sight, leaving behind the sound of even more soft snickering (and a quiet cheer and comment that might have been "About _time,_ Kuroba-san...")  Kaito raised both eyebrows at Aoko, who turned even redder and fingered the chrysanthemum in her hair rather self-consciously.

"It's nothing—they were just teasing me.  Um, about the flower you gave me.  Somebody asked me where I got it and…  I don't know why they thought it was funny; I mean, you've given me flowers lots of times before….."

_He_ had an idea why, though.  "When they asked you, did you blush?"

"Um.  Probably."

Kaito couldn't help but grin.  "Well, that's why."

"Oh."

She was rather quiet on the way to the take-out noodle stand.  But she kept his flower where it was, scarlet in her hair.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The take-out boxes were in the trash fairly early on, and the two co-conspirators were sprawled on cushions on the floor among a litter of notebooks, pencils and notes as Kaito went over what Aoko stubbornly insisted calling his 'plan of attack' (she had remarked that it was a better name than 'modus operandi').

He chewed on the end of his pencil, frowning as he tried to figure out how to explain.  "Okay—maybe if we look at it *this* way… since I've already _*found*_ the Pandora Gem and destroyed it, the idea this time isn't to get the target, it's to bring the bad guys out into the light.  And the only way to do that is to make 'em think that there's still something to be found… so….."

Aoko waited, petting Spot where he lay in a curl of white beside her; the magician gave a sigh and flopped over onto his back, staring at the ceiling.  "…so….. uh, any ideas?"

She glared at him.  "And THIS is the great Master Thief that's been foiling my dad, the entire Kaitou Kid Task Force and all those other investigators, detectives, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera??"

"Oh, C'MON Aokooooo….."  The teenager drooped.  "Nine times out of ten it's a hell of a lot simpler than this, y'know.  I pick a likely target, case the location—and usually it's something on public display— make up some riddle that _*almost* tells what I'm gonna do, and hit it on schedule.  No offense to your dad, but most times he gets part of the riddle, not all of it; and he and the Task Force stick out like a sore thumb, so it's not particularly hard to evade 'em going in.  Leaving, now… that's not too bad either most times; they get rattled.  The hardest thing about most of my heists has been to do as little damage as possible and keep the casualties to minor injuries; half the rookies in the Force wipe out before they hit their second heist-watch, and—"_

She rolled her eyes.  "I know, I know."  Aoko had read his notes.  "So what's so hard about *this* one?"

Kaito rolled over, flopping face-first into his pillow.  "The problem this time," he said, muffled, "is that I've gotta draw the baddies out so your dad can get hold of some of 'em for questioning.  According to, uh, some _sources_ of mine, these Black Organization types will sooner kill each other before allowing any operatives to be held prisoner.  Hell, one of those rooftop-snipers in that damned dog-collar heist actually shot _himself!  So what I need…" and he abruptly drew his knees in beneath him and pushed up onto them in one of his startlingly fast movements, "… is some sort of bait.  Only… what if they KNOW I've found the Gem?"_

The Inspector's daughter hesitated, stroking the kitten that lay curled up beside her.  "I—don't suppose they could—no, that's silly."  She flumphed back onto the floor as well.

"What?"

"Well… could you make them think that there were _*two*_ gems?  Or maybe that it had been split in half or something?  That maybe you had the first half and were going after the second?  I mean, if you made it really plain somehow that you had the first part… and that you were going after the second part, only THAT was the one where you drew them out… then…  Um, never mind.  I guess that's sort of stupid, isn't it?"

"Aoko….."

She blinked at his tone of voice.  "What?"

"….. that's _GREAT."_

"Huh?  I mean, it IS?  Oh, good."  The young woman sat up and watched as her companion dug through his school backpack for his books on Kyoto.  "Do you really think it'd work?"  Aoko felt inordinately pleased at Kaito's gleeful acceptance of her idea.  Of course, she had to keep reminding herself that what this boiled down to was planning a crime, and therefore she probably should be ashamed of herself, but…  "You said something on the way home about wanting to make it happen out of town—"

"Mmmhmmm…"  He flipped the book open to a marked spot.  "You know that museum we're gonna go see tomorrow on the field-trip?  Guess what it's next to?"  Without waiting for her to answer Kaito tapped the page he was brandishing before her nose with one long finger.  "The Botanical Gardens, that's what; I checked 'em out online while you were calling your dad earlier.  And there's a _huge amount of artwork on display there, some sort of multi-cultural thing like the one that I filched Pandora from--"  He waved the book in the air excitedly, making the pages flap.  "What'll you bet there's something with a gem in it, something that'll match?  An emerald'd be good, or another East Indian piece—"_

Aoko made a face, still staring up at the book.  "Speaking of my dad…  How would you feel about staying with somebody else while we're on the field trip instead of at the hotel with the rest of the class?  He sort of had fits about me leaving town and made a few phone calls…"  The elder Nakamori had had more than 'a few fits,' actually; he had all but refused to allow his daughter to set foot beyond known ground, but the intervention of his two 'guard-dogs' had managed to sway him over into reason—with a few modifications of plans.

"Where?  And how come?  I mean, I can see *you* staying in a safer place, but why me?"  The young thief raised his eyebrows.

She looked a little embarrassed.  "I, uh, suggested to my dad that maybe it'd be… better if I had an escort.  And _*HE*_ suggested you."  The kitten beside her made a faint, derogatory snort and curled up into a tighter ball than before.

"Oh."  Kaito didn't quite know what to say to that, so he plopped back down onto his cushion with the book in his lap.  It was one thing to have been friends with the Inspector's daughter most of her life; it was something else entirely to be aware that her dad not only approved of you, but apparently trusted you with her safety.

The young woman in question glanced at him a little sideways, fighting back a smile.  "Actually, he said something else… he said that you had 'better behave yourself' or he'd 'turn you into a seatcover for his squad-car.'  He said a few other things, but that was the one I really remembered the most."

"Ergh."  So much for being approved of and trusted…..  "I get the picture.  So, uh, who are we staying with?"  Kaito changed the subject hastily.

The young woman yawned, stretching a little on her cushion (and currently derailing a few of his trains of thought in the process; she sure wasn't as flat-chested as she had been a year ago) and put her hands behind her head as she lay back.  "Some police bigshot he used to work under before he moved here; I think they were both at the same precinct in Nagoya when my dad was a rookie.  Named, ummmm…"  She dug around in one pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper, squinting at what she had written there.  "…named Hattori Heizo.  I think he's maybe a Chief Inspector in Osaka or something like that, and I've heard a bit about his son—Hattori Heiji, I think it is?  They call him the Western Detective….  Um, Kaito?  Kaito?  Hello?"  From beside her Spot raised his white head, watching with interest.

Aoko rolled on her side and waved one concerned hand in front of the frozen, wide-eyed thief's face_.   "Kaito?_   —Kaito, if you don't answer me, I'm going to get a glass of water and—"

He blinked several times, rapidly.  "No, no—I'm okay.  It's just…..  We've, ahhh, _*met* before, Heiji-san and me, under sort of peculiar circumstances.  Just briefly, though—and he wouldn't recognize me."_

"Why not?" she demanded, sitting up.

Kaito shot her an ironic look.  "I was several stories over his head on a hang-glider, carrying a stolen Russian Easter-egg; _he_ was in the process of chasing me on his motorcycle."  He didn't mention Heiji's passenger; he had not explained _anything_ about Kudo's current circumstances to Aoko as yet, and would not until given permission.

Understanding dawned.  "Oh, _that sort of 'peculiar circumstances.'  So is this going to be a problem?  Staying with the police and all, I mean?  It's kind of late to change—we have to be at the school at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow morning, you know…"  Her father had already arranged for a squad-car to pick them up and deliver them—and for once, Kaito was all too willing to ride in one.  Just because he hadn't spotted any watchers when coming in didn't mean that they weren't there….._

Aoko scooted forward a little, scooping up and extra pillow into her lap and hugging it; the movement drew Kaito's thoughts back to the present.  "But if you're worried, I guess I can ask Keiko or Hakuba-kun to—"

The young magician scowled horribly.  "Get real, Aoko; why should it bother me?"  The scowl changed into a chuckle  and then into an ear-to-ear grin, as quickly and completely as a magic trick.  "Besides, I hang around with _you,_ don't I?  And you're a lot scarier than any Great Western Detective could ever be…"  She hefted the pillow in obvious threat as he continued blithely on, watching a slow burn coming into the Inspector's daughter's eyes; she was so damned _pretty_ when she was mad!  "And y'know, if I *do* get worried, all I've got to do to convince him I'm innocent, trustworthy and squeaky-clean is _*this*—"_

--and swift as Hakuba's hawk, he leaned forward and kissed her square on the mouth, pulling back laughing after a brief but intense second.  She stared, jaw dropping as Kaito fell over backwards onto his cushion with a huge, happy grin.  "—and everything'll be just fine, right?!?"

_**WHUMPH!!!***_  The pillow from her lap came down onto his face like the Trump of Doom, and the next fifteen minutes or so were spent in the kind of swing!-_miss-_swat!-_dodge that was usually accomplished with the use of a mop, rather than a pillow._

Spot watched critically as they leaped and ducked and eventually came to a halt, wrapped around each other; there seemed to be a certain amount of petting and cuddling going on between them before they parted.  Silly humans…..

He licked at one immaculate white paw, admiring the delicate curve of his claws before curling up again.

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_TO BE CONTINUED….._

**_Ysabet's_****_ Notes:__  Okay, WHY all the dream-sequences in this chapter?  To tell the truth, I haven't a clue, other than the fact that I was rereading over my old 'Second Wind' stuff for a detail I had forgotten and it was fun, going through all the reality/unreality shifts and changes with the dreamworld.  Why am I babbling on about this, since it's already written?_**

_**clueless roll of eyes**  What, you thought **I was in charge here?**_

_Anyway…..  We're up to planning the heist.  This chapter got humongous rather quickly (didn't plan for the dream-sequences, or not for them to be that long anyway—and I'd apologize for the little hentai-ish 'misdirection' in the first one if I really felt guilty, which I *don't!*)—it's the longest one yet.  I have reasons for pretty much everything in it, though, TRUST me (mwahahahah)!!  The "Scream 'PERVERT'!!" scene is entirely Icka M. Chif's fault, though—she thought it up!_

_Next time:  __Kyoto__….. Heiji….. Kazuha….. heist-planning seen up close….. Spot vs. the Hawk of Doom….. the mathematics of riddle-planning..… and Hakuba, drat him.  How the hell did HE sneak into the plot? That wasn't supposed to happen… **droop**_

**_This chapter is a present for both Icka M. Chif and Becky Tailweaver—Happy Birthday, y'all!!!  =^__^=_**


	13. Field Trips, Part Two

**_Chapter 13:  Field Trips (Part Two)_**

_"'In the midst of this world / We stroll along the roof of hell, / Gawking at flowers.'"_

The woman's voice was soft yet carrying; the words of her haiku were quite audible in the clear morning air as she turned the page of her book.

Green eyes traced the elegant characters, lingering on the delicate painting of flowers to one side; her companion stirred quietly, reaching for the teapot that sat between them on their hotel balcony.  "How appropriate, if perhaps a little grim.  Would you care for another cup of tea, Kari-san?"  The man's voice, on the other hand, was warm with amusement if perhaps a touch on the sleepy side; it was early yet, and he was not a morning person.

She inclined her head, continuing to read as he tilted the silver pot; the aroma of tea drifted on the light wind and momentarily overwhelmed the scent of the sea below.  Gulls wafted past, their cries shrill in the background as she read aloud once more:

_"'O autumn winds, / Tell me where I'm bound, to which / Particular hell?'"___

The man beside her blinked.  "That's rather harsh…  Doesn't your poet have any _cheerful poems?  He seems remarkably preoccupied with hell….."  One corner of the woman's mouth curved as she flipped through the pages again, pausing at a particular section._

_"' The winter fly_ / _I caught and finally freed_ / _The_ cat quickly ate.'"__

One black eyebrow quirked up as she looked at him, awaiting his response.  "Well?  Was that more to your taste, Pyotr?"  She tucked a strand of dark hair (still damp from the shower) back before proffering the slim volume; he frowned, taking the book and paging past towards the end.  His own eyebrows rose several times before he read:

_"'A world of trials; / And if the cherry blossoms, / It simply blossoms.'"_

"Now, *that,* my dear, is much more to my liking.  A rather interesting fellow, this Issa of yours, though; that haiku about _'Give me a homeland, / A passionate woman and / A winter alone…'_  Not so bad, I suppose."  He handed the book back and took a long swallow of his tea.  "Feh; I do wish you'd order English tea some mornings, Kari-san…"

Akasema Kari wrinkled her nose.  "You're supposed to sip it, not drink it down like your dreadful Russian plum brandy; and of _course_ you'd prefer that verse, though doubtless you'd much rather your rusty Eighteenth-century Slavic poets to Issa, no matter how famous he became."  She smiled a little at his snort of agreement.  "Issa…..  When I think of that ragged little man from Shinano-machi becoming so well known, all these years later…"

He chuckled.  "…you wish that you had lent him more money, perhaps?"

"Hardly.  That he had paid it back, yes, but…..  Ah well.  Water under the bridge and all that."  She rose from her chair, stretching like a lithe, black cat.  Her thick hair hung unbound past her waist and the green of her eyes was echoed in the iris-pattern of her silk robe, brilliant against her bronzed skin.   "Will you be traveling with me now, or shall we take separate routes?" she asked, opening her closet.  The hotel room was well-appointed and large, but her closet was nearly overfull; she sorted through the garments there, frowning just a little while behind her Pyotr Kostya poured himself a third cup.  "I'd welcome your company as ever, old friend—and it's been too long, nearly two years since we traveled together."

Peering at the stream of tea as if it held some hidden flaw, the grey-haired man shrugged again; he was strongly-built if slender, and he yawned once more as he leaned back in his wickerwork chair with a creak.  "With you, then, if you don't mind; I'd prefer that we not become separated for a little while…  Your current pet project may require more than two hands if it grows as swiftly as I think it might."  He sat the pot down with a rattle.  "This young man… and the others with him…  Are you _certain_ that he has…?"

"Oh _yes."_  Her frown deepened a trifle as she pulled out a blouse, running a long-nailed fingertip down one sleeve.  "There's no doubt, not as swiftly as he healed of his injuries.  And the young woman too, and the little one—I'm particularly intrigued by the little one.  Such possibilities…..  And a _kitten,_ of all things?—I wonder how *that* happened?  I don't believe we've had an animal among us since that foolish Englishman and his prize racehorse; but you saw….. they were all there."  She drew out a pair of jeans, considered, then put them back and replaced them with a skirt in silk gauze with a Moorish pattern.

Her companion glanced at the outfit.  "Hearkening back to your old roots, are you, Kari-san?  Or should I call you 'Kari-hime'?  It would also be appropriate….."

The dark-haired woman crossed her arms and gave him a meaningful look down the length of her nose.  "I would most decidedly _not_ continue with that train of thought, my dear Pyotr.  And besides, the only princess here in Kanazawa is Tamahime—Oh, and speaking of which, I'll be wanting to visit her temple before we leave town; you don't mind, do you?"

The man shook his head, setting his empty cup down beside the teapot.  "You and your temples…" he remarked without rancor.  "How many shrines, synagogues, cathedrals and so forth has it been this year?  A hundred?  Two?"

She shrugged, carrying her garments into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door behind her.  Muffled by cloth, Kari-san's voice was remarkably cheerful as she answered.  "It's always wise to ask the blessings of the gods and good spirits, old friend; and besides, this temple has a special place in my heart.  Poor Tamahime, to die at no more than twenty-four….."  She emerged, twitching her skirt into place.  "Two many children; it wears one out, as I should know.  And it was such a shock to her father, too, to lose her so young; I've always believed that guilt that led him to build such a remarkable shrine in her honor.  Don't you think so?"  Barefooted, she walked up to the mirror hanging above her dresser and began running a brush through her dark hair.

Pyotr nodded.  "A more paranoid man I would not wish to meet; Tokugawa-domo was a great man, to be sure, but so very certain that the world was out to get him… and I suppose, in the end, he was right."   Leaning against the doorframe, he turned a page and read out loud in his heavily-accented Japanese:

_"'Before this autumn wind / Even the shadows of mountains / Shudder and tremble…'"_

He sighed.  "Speaking of paranoid men—Kuroba is his name, correct?  You'll try to contact him in Kyoto?  Kari, it may yet be too early; you saw how little he understood… that is, if one is to trust the, ah, _source_ of the information.  I've never quite felt easy in my mind about that sort of thing, even after all these years."  The Russian's scowl deepened in distaste and perhaps a tiny flicker of unease; he shifted restlessly, crossing one leg over the other.

With a soft _ssssssshh_ the woman drew her brush one last time through her hair, gathering the strands in her hands for a second before knotting them up neatly with a silver comb.  "That's because you have no faith, my dear Pyotr; but don't worry—I've enough for both of us."  Her eyes sparkled with amusement from the mirror, gleaming more brilliantly than any emerald back at his own.  "It's served me well enough over the years, has it not?  And as for young Kuroba and his companions, I'd not be too concerned; _instinct as well as anything else will aid us in this, I do believe."  She teased a single lock out from the knot; it lay blackly against her white shoulder, a study in contrasts.  "Read the haiku on page 112 aloud, would you please?"_

He read:

"'_The young sparrows_ / _Return into Jizo's sleeve_ / _For__ sanctuary.'"_

"'Jizo'… that's another name for Buddha, as I recall.  Really, my dear…?  I think perhaps you underestimate these 'sparrows;' from everything I've seen, they're rather resourceful.  *And* they have their own nests to feather, to stretch the analogy a bit; a little matter of revenge, wasn't it?  I wonder if Kuroba truly understands what kind of price revenge requires when all is said and done."  He was silent for a second, face dark with memory; then he glanced back up.  "Do you really think that they'll be so eager to join their cause to ours?"

She smiled back at him from the mirror again, setting down her brush.  "Perhaps not; or perhaps.  But I've dealt with many a sparrow, have I not?"  She chuckled.  "God is not the _only_ one mindful of when certain ones fall—"

He shook his head as she gathered up her shoes and handbag.  "Phaugh; vanity…..  Fine, fine, as you will—I'll follow your lead as I always have, you know that."  Pyotr fished in one pocket.  "You have your sunglasses with you?"   The older man slipped on his own, masking the fiery gleam of his golden-brown eyes.

"Of course.  Shall we?  The car should be ready by now."

"After you, my dear."

The door closed behind them; a last breeze from the open balcony riffled the pages of the book of haiku before dying.

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Kaito stared at Hakuba; Hakuba stared at Kaito.  A handful of their classmates stared at them both, eyes wide and breaths held, while Aoko sulked in her seat with her arms crossed.  At last, in a chill, calm voice, the blond detective said the final, fatal words of their private game:

"Well, Kuroba-kun?  Play or pay up."  He laid down his cards.  Three kings and a pair of eights stared blandly up at the magician, who merely shrugged and displayed his own hand for all to see.

_*Show-off,*_ thought Aoko with a mixture of irritation and affection.  She bit her lip to keep from smiling.

The class let out their breath in a collective sigh; catcalls, a crow of 'Cough it _up,_ Iyamamoto!  Five hundred yen!' came from the back of the small crowd as well as a few hoots of derision and much slapping of shoulders.

Hakuba scowled.  "I know better than to accuse you of cheating at cards…" he stated, staring at the Straight Flush that lay mockingly before him.  "…but I truly *would* appreciate it if you'd stop doing THAT right now."  _'THAT'_ was, of course, the victory-dance that Kaito was currently performing all over the limited space of their train compartment.  Hakuba's classmate merely grinned in response; at a glare from Aoko (who was rather blatantly sulking, since she had been knocked out of the game early on) he settled down, thunking down beside her onto a seat and settling back with a sigh of satisfaction.

She watched him, now, as he figuratively licked the cream from his whiskers; she watched them both, and wondered what she had let herself in for.

It takes around three hours for the Hikari line of the Shinkansen to travel from Tokyo Station to Kyoto—four or a little more, if you add on the usual headaches caused by chicken-herding a classful of High School students from place to place.  No matter how mature they think they are, if you gather together a group of seventeen-to-eighteen-year-olds in one place for long enough they seem to drop a decade in age and behave like gradeschoolers.  To this mixture add one Kuroba Kaito and it gets worse; add one Kuroba Kaito who is _determined_ to tromp on a certain Hakuba Saguru's sense of gravity, propriety and innate orderliness, and it becomes the sort of trip that causes chaperones to wake up with the shakes for many nights thereafter.

And as for what it was going to do to _Aoko's_ nerves by the time they got back to Tokyo…..

It had all begun on the way in to the station, really; Hakuba had not expected the Inspector's daughter to ride in the buses with everybody else (what with her father's current predicament), but he had emphatically _*not*_ expected to see her arriving with Kaito-kun—and not with him holding her tightly around the shoulders with one arm, either.  That she had been attempting to tie her shoe had been the explanation—she claimed that he had just been steadying her… but then there was the way she had blushed and stammered just a bit when her friends all goggled at her in disbelief, and _then_ there had been Kaito's grin—

Hakuba had had certain special words to say to that grin; he had muttered them under his breath, too.  And from the sharp, answering gleam in the magician's eyes, he could swear that his fellow student had _heard_ them, which should have been impossible.  The train station had been very noisy—noisy enough that both Kaito and Aoko had been wincing a few seconds before every arrival… but Kaito _*had*_ overheard them; Aoko knew that, because, oddly enough, she had as well.

That was a little worrying, really.  In the back of her mind the Inspector's daughter kept wondering:  what the hell was happening?  _*First we start healing every time we get a scratch or anything, then we start wincing at noises that would never have bothered us before.  And now Kaito claims that last night he could read in the dark; is this all from the Pandora Gem?*_

_*I don't want to think about it.*  So_ she did her best not to….. but it wasn't easy.

Now they were underway, and the poker game had been going on for more than an hour.  One of the other students had supplied the cards (not that Hakuba thought that Kaito would cheat—he didn't, as he had said—but still… it was better to use cards that wouldn't spontaneously turn a person's fingers bright blue or suddenly change into photos of Miss February) and they had played for Pocky Sticks.  The game had started out with an even half-dozen players, but it had dwindled predictably down to Kaito-kun and Hakuba-kun, causing many bets to be laid (several by the chaperones, actually, though they had kept that fairly quiet).

Kaito stretched, clasping his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles in front of him; he was gloating.  "Don't be such a poor sport, Hakuba-kun," he teased.  "It was a pretty good game—it usually takes me _half_ that much time to win."  He yawned a jaw-cracking yawn, then winced slightly as Aoko poked him in the ribs. "OW!  What's THAT for?"

She glared at him.  "Being too _cocky_—haven't you ever heard the old saying about 'Pride Goeth before a Fall'?  Baka."  She wasn't in the best of moods this morning; it hadn't helped that Keiko kept making frantic eye-signals indicating _'I Want Details NOW'_ regarding what she felt was probably written all over her face, i.e., her changed relationship with Kaito.

It wasn't that she didn't _WANT_ things to be the way they were now (whatever way that was); it was just that she didn't want to be teased over it, or asked questions, or—or any of the ten thousand other horrors that she was sure were waiting to jump out onto her.  Dammit…..  She was still who she had been before this weekend, and Kaito was still who _HE_ was (despite the little additions of 'Phantom Thief' and all that); it was just—

--that things had _changed._  So very, very much; and now her gaze softened as she watched him again.  He had subsided with a grumble and a protracted yawn after her poke, and now her friend was slumped back against the cushions with his eyes closed, a peaceful look on his face; neither of them had really slept well over the last few nights.  Those absurdly long eyelashes of his were throwing spiky shadows across his cheekbones, flickering as the light outside the train-car windows shifted and slid, and Aoko had to make herself look away before anybody noticed her staring.

(Of course, she *had* been noticed; several curious female and mournful male gazes made themselves scarce, with the exception of Keiko who would not, of course, be deterred by a minor detail like manners.)

Around her the noise of her classmates had gone into Poker Game Post-Mortem mode, with Hakuba-kun adding the occasional brief comment; he really needed to loosen up sometimes.  The overhead lights burnished his blonde hair, and Aoko wondered if it was just his innate British reserve coming through or if he was _really_ just… shy.  _*Hmmm… maybe I could do something to help him there.*  Aoko_ glanced surreptitiously at Keiko, who had been briefly distracted by some comment or other by another classmate.  _*Keiko-kun thinks he's cute; maybe…  I could ask Kaito about setting them up or something?*  She_ stole another look at her drowsing friend, who had apparently dropped off for one of his usual catnaps.  _*Might be a good idea, might… not.  But then again, it'd be something to get her off my back a bit—she's a good friend and all that, but she's going to tackle me and grill the life out of me as soon as possible about Kaito.  If she has something else to think about, all the better.*_

Rather cheered by the prospect of tipping her friend's composure assets-over-teakettle, Aoko leaned back into the cushions and settled down to take a nap of her own.  She had had to get up at what Kaito referred to as 'Oh-Dark-Hundred', anyway…..  As her eyes closed, she felt rather than saw Keiko finally flumph down onto the empty seat to her left with a sigh.

"Aoko-kun?  Aoko-kun, are you awake?"  The whisper carried easily over the noise of their fellow passengers.

Aoko ignored it.  _*Go AWAY, Keiko; I'm asleep.*_   She squinted her eyes a little tighter shut.

"Oh c'mon….. AOKO-kuuuuun….."  That one was a little louder and more emphatic; clearly her friend was about to die of frustration.  No doubt about it, then, she needed to be set up with Hakuba-kun.  Aoko turned her head and snuggled a little against the shoulder to her right; she didn't think Kaito would mind.

"…………."  An aggrieved sigh.  Then relative silence for a while, punctuated with the occasional mutter, whine and rattle of the train and the chatter of their classmates.  The Inspector's daughter dozed.

_**zzzzzzzzzzz…….. zzzzzzzzzzz……….**_

She was halfway into a dream involving icebergs and someone in a black trenchcoat who kept trying to sell her a life insurance policy when…..

"You want to borrow my _WHAT??"_

_**……..zzzzzzzsnerk??__**_

"Careful; you'll wake them.  Your lipstick.  You do have it with you, don't you?"

That was… Keiko and Hakuba.  Hakuba?  Why would HAKUBA-kun want to borrow Keiko's lipstick_?  *Maybe,*_ her drowsy mind conjectured, _*they had managed to get together while she was asleep and then… uhhh…*  She_ couldn't quite come up with anything that would cover Hakuba-kun wanting to borrow Keiko's lipstick (nothing *probable,* anyway) so she kept her eyes closed and listened…..

"Or a pen, maybe?  A marker?"  That was Hakuba-kun again.  **rustle, rustle**  And that sounded like Keiko-kun was going through her backpack or purse—

"Here—it's 'Flamboyant Pink'.  Will that work?"

A faint chuckle.  "Oh, I think so….."  There were more faint sounds:  the squeak of cushions, muffled giggles and comments from around what Aoko now remembered was the train-car, a noise as if somebody (Hakuba?) was leaning over right next to her, breathing…  _*WHAT on earth?!?*_

Keiko again, giggling:  "That's not dark enough—it's too pale to show well on his skin.  Here—" she was turning away towards the rest of the car.  "Does anybody else have any darker lipstick?  Otako-kun?  Great!  Pass it on over…"

NOW Aoko was beginning to get the picture.  And so, apparently, was Kaito….. all over his *face.*  Hakuba-kun was taking revenge for that trick from the night of her birthday-party.  Well… it _was_ only fair, she supposed, but—

And then she had a horrible idea.  They hadn't drawn anything on HER, had they??  There was going to be hell to pay if they had—

In a very, very quiet whisper she spoke up without opening her eyes:  "If anybody has put **_ANYTHING_ on my face that wasn't there when I went to sleep, I will personally feed them their shoes.  One at a time.  BACKWARDS.  And I'm not talking about the *shoes* when I say 'backwards'—"  **

Several hasty whispers assured the Inspector's daughter that her fears were groundless.  She kept her eyes firmly closed so as to not see anything incriminating, and beside her Kaito muttered something in his sleep before subsiding.

Keiko sounded… slightly disturbed.  "That's—um, Hakuba-kun?  Are you _sure_ you want to draw _THAT_ sort of thing on Kaito-kun?  I know you two are always joking around about it, but--  I thought maybe we could just, I don't know, add some mascara or  blush or something—"

A snort.  "No, this is perfect.  Usually I wouldn't stoop to such low tricks, but he had this coming to him.  Errrr… Nakamori-kun?  Would you like to add anything?"  He sounded remarkably hopeful and not a little smug.

Aoko considered the thought, then carefully lifted her head from Kaito's shoulder and opened her eyes.  A half-dozen or so of her classmates were grouped around, grinning at her nap-companion; she turned to look—and nearly choked in shock.

Hakuba was no artist, but the monocle and dangling triangle-charm that he had drawn on Kuroba Kaito's face were very neatly done and *quite* recognizable; all he needed was a top-hat, and…..  _*Oh--*_

She thought fast; granted, Kaito claimed that the blond half-Britisher had nothing conclusive on him, but she had a distinct feeling that he would NOT appreciate Hakuba's 'artwork.'  So what on earth could she do to salvage the situation?  Aoko hesitated _*Got it—and Kaito'll just have to forgive me later on.*  "_As a matter of fact," she said slowly, "I _would_ like to add a little something….."  

She took the dark red lipstick from Hakuba's fingers, one part of her noting how carefully he was watching her.  _*He wanted to see how I would react, didn't he?  I wonder what sort of conclusion he came to?*  That_ calm, amber-eyed face gave away very little.

Leaning close, she gently drew a second circle around Kaito's unmarked eye as well as a small line linking the two; behind her, the blond detective let out a small, indecipherable noise as she carefully cupped one hand along her victim's cheek, steadying it.  "Ooops, Hakuba-kun, I've smeared your drawing…. Here, I'll wipe that bit off."  A quick swipe with a bit of Keiko's tissue took care of the triangle-charm, and she added a delicate lightning-mark above his eyes as muffled snorts and snickers broke out from the audience behind her.

"There we go…..  Harry Potter himself.  After all," she added softly as she drew back with a little cat-who-ate-the-canary grin at Hakuba-kun, "he DOES do magic….."  Kaito let out a small snore, totally oblivious to the quiet commotion around him.

That grin faltered just a bit at the look in Hakuba Saguru's eyes, however; he regarded her steadily, an odd light of—was it comprehension? disappointment? showing as clear as day.  The Inspector's daughter bit her lip, then dropped her own eyes as he turned away and sat back down.  

A brief sound of slow clapping from one side of the train-car made her jump slightly; Akako-kun was watching the proceedings with amusement.  "Bravo, Aoko-kun….. bravo."  The girl chuckled softly.  "I see you've chosen where your loyalties lie, ne?  That's good; you have to draw the line _somewhere,_ don't you?"  A dark, sparkling gaze dwelt almost lovingly on both Kaito's and Aoko's face before she chuckled again.

"Loyalties?"  Aoko wondered if she was just being over-paranoid.  All around her, her classmates giggled and whispered to each other; the occasional flash of a camera told that the Potterization of Kaito-kun was being recorded for posterity.  But Akako's gaze, however warm it was, made her shiver just the smallest bit.  She tried to toss it off, smiling back.  "As for loyalties, he *does* deserve this after what he did to poor Hakuba-kun at my birthday party… and he'd probably LIKE looking like Kaitou Kid; he's a fan, remember?  So I turned him into a Harry Potter clone instead."  She managed a laugh; Akako's smile deepened in return, but the lovely young woman said nothing.

Kaito continued to snore softly, his hair half-covering the lipstick lightning-mark; Aoko settled back with a sigh of relief, trying to ignore the sidelong stare that a certain blond would-be detective kept directed her way from across the train-car.  Beside her Keiko whispered, "Well, *I* think it looks funny.  Just wait 'til he wakes up!!"  She brandished her camera meaningfully.  Then, dropping her voice:  "Aoko?  Aoko-kun?  What's up with you two?  You're acting like something *happened* between you this weekend."  Her whisper took on gleeful tones.  "DID something happen?  Tell meeeeee!  Details, details!"

_*Aaack.  Or as my dad would say, '@#$%!!'*  "_…..ummm….."

The girl beside her leaned closer.  "Come on…..  Aoko!!  Aoko, when I got that note from Seichiro, I told you, didn't I?  And when I went out on that double-date with Miki, Junei and Daito, I told you about _*that*_ too, didn't I?  And when I got kissed by Ken, I even told you about _THAT,_ didn't I??  Well?!?  SPILL it!!"

"K-Keiko, shhhhh!  You'll wake him up—"  Aoko sighed; there was no help for it.  "What do you want to know?"

_"EVERYTHING!!"_  Keiko nearly bounced in her seat.

"………….."

"Come on---" wheedled the pony-tailed teenager.  "You *can't* not want to talk about it—that'd be almost inhuman!  What happened to you two this weekend?  I mean, you've _always_ been awfully close, but, um, not… you're DIFFERENT close now."  Eyes snapping with excitement and curiosity, she grinned at Aoko.  "Did he kiss you?"

"…..….. uh huh; he did.………..  But actually, I think **_I_ kissed *him* first."**

Shocked, delighted silence.  "Really?  _Reeeeeeally__??"_  Keiko's expression was incredulous.  "How many times?  _Tell_me, Aoko-chan!"

Aoko gulped, mentally wiped away a sweartdrop and began to prepare her reply.  There were certain parts of the weekend that were going to require very careful editing…..

* * *

If the steady, light snore of the sleeper was any indication, Kuroba Kaito was down for the count.  However, one long-lashed eye slowly, slowly opened a tiny bit; its owner fought back a delighted grin, hiding the expressing neatly behind the slack face of unconsciousness as he listened.  This was one bit of serious Girl Talk that he would not miss, not for anything…..

* * *

And across the train-car, sandwiched in between two chattering classmates and the corner-seat, Hakuba Saguru watched the Inspector's daughter and brooded.

_*She knows.  She knows about him, and she protected him just now.  If it hadn't been for the look on her face, I would have perhaps chalked it up to coincidence, but--  No.  Nakamori-kun… Aoko-kun… bloody well knows about Kuroba, about the Kid; I'm certain of it.*_

_*Damn you, Kaito.  Why did you have to drag HER into this?!?*_

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The aim of the Kyoto field-trip, according to their class schedule, was to enlighten the students' minds with the displays of the newly-opened Kyoto Industrial Science Museum.  If anyone had bothered to ask the students, of course, they would have said something to the effect that the field-trip's purpose had been to cause terminal cases of boredom and thus sharpen the grade-curve.

So far, so good.  There hadn't been any actual deaths yet, but from the half-stupified expressions on some of the students' (and most of the chaperones') faces, it had been a near thing.  Aoko had actually been expecting there to BE a death when Kaito woke up and noticed his new 'look'—

-- but the young magician had merely stretched, turned politely to her and requested some tissues; he had spent a few minutes cleaning up (after admiring the artwork in her compact-mirror) without a single complaint.  Hakuba's eyes had narrowed, both puzzled and annoyed; but Kaito had simply grinned a fox's grin at him and shaken his head.  "You didn't think that I *really* didn't know you were doing that, did you?" he had smirked.  "I was awake the whole time."  At the Britisher's dawning look of comprehension, he had shrugged.  "Hakuba-kun, I would've had to have been *dead* to sleep through all _that_ racket…"  His grin had widened.  "Didn't matter, really; what's a little lipstick?  And besides, you were right; I _DID_ have it coming to me.  And _NOW_… it's _*my*_ turn to play next….."

And Kaito had laughed.

(Later on, on the way into the museum, a certain thought had come to Aoko; she had peered suspiciously at her friend.  "…Just how long _were_ you awake, anyway?" she had asked with a feeling of dread; after all, she and Keiko had been talking about several fairly delicate subjects…..  Kaito, however, had merely tapped her lightly on the nose and stage-whispered "Oh, long enough," and then refused to elaborate further.  She had resolved to get him back for that eventually.)

Now they were moving through the museum, which was proving to be pretty much as expected.  Halfway through their guide's fourth lecture (which, rather than being the dreaded 'Our Friend the Tractor' had actually been a rather cool explanation of current earthquake prediction techniques), Kaito decided that he had had enough.  The place was interesting if you were a techie type but boring as all hell if you had a heist to plan, so..…  He tugged impatiently at Aoko's elbow, drawing her silently back and behind a large display-screen before she had a chance to protest.  "Shhhh… c'mon; let's go."

"Huh?  Kaito, what— Kaito, we'll be missed—!!"  Her whispered protest ended in a faint squawk as he pulled her quickly around a corner and down a small, narrow side-hallway he had scouted out earlier.  Without a word the teenager drew her through a door, closing it quietly behind them.

"No we won't— they're about to go into the Observatory and it'll be dark; they've got an hour-long satellite system display to watch, and then there's the Robotics Room after that."  He cocked an eyebrow at her, eyes gleaming.  "Wanna go on our *own* field trip, next door to the Botanical Gardens?"

Aoko blinked.  "How?  And why'd you drag me in here?"   The room looked like nothing more than one of the catch-alls that every large building eventually creates, a place where crates of office supplies or other things end up in before being delivered; it was barely three meters long and stacked high with boxes of copy-paper and other miscellanea.  

Kaito bounced over to a dusty window, pulling back the blinds and flipping the catch after examining it carefully.  "Because…"  He slid the window up; "… this side of the museum shares a wall with the Gardens; and this room is right by the wall.  If we're careful and we time it right, we ought to be able to make it over and back without a hitch."  He hopped up lightly onto the sill.  "Wait here, will you?  Won't be a moment—" and he was out and through before she could say another word.

Nervously the Inspector's daughter fidgeted, wondering how she'd explain it if they were discovered in the room; the most _*obvious*_ way out (being caught necking) would also be the one that would get them into the most trouble (though her traitorous thoughts kept commenting that it didn't sound like too bad an idea).  At last Kaito's head popped back in through the window; he was grinning and a leaf was stuck in his hair.  "Okay, it's clear—here, take my hand—"

Dubiously she allowed herself to be drawn up and through the window.  Feeling rather like Wendy in Peter Pan, she swallowed hard and carefully made her way along the top of the broad brick wall that abutted the building; it wasn't too hard, really, if you ignored the feeling that you were going to fall.  High trees to either side and blinds on the few windows made Aoko a little more confident than she would have normally been, so she forged ahead and tried not to think about losing her balance.

And _*then*_ it got harder; the wall veered away from the building, narrowing sharply to about fifteen centimeters wide—not impossible, not by any means… or not if you were Kuroba Kaitou, who had skipped ahead without a second look, moving cat-footed and easy across the narrow span.  "Ummm… Kaito?  Help—"

He looked back from several meters ahead.  "What?  --oh.  Aoko, you should've said something—"  With ease he walked the narrow line of brick, not even bothering to look at his feet.  "Okay… let's see.  There's a couple of ways we can do this, but the easiest for _you_ would be… mmm, *yeah.*  That'd work."  Kaito turned around again, peering back at her over one shoulder with one eye.  "Climb aboard…"  At her look of wary incomprehension he added impatiently, "Onto ME, baka.  Y'know, piggyback.  I'll be careful, I promise…"

Gingerly she 'climbed aboard' as he had asked, squeaking once as her feet left the brickwork_.  "Eeep!"_  And then they were moving; her weight didn't seem to throw him off in the slightest as he ran lightly along the remaining dozen meters or so of wall into the cover of tree-branches on the other side of the grounds.

It was cooler here, a green-filtered, leaf-shadowed coolness like one might find in the heart of a forest, not in the midst of a city the size of Kyoto.  The brickwork had broadened again as it joined up with the Botanical Garden's curtain-wall, but Kaito showed no signs of wanting to put Aoko down as he dodged branches and moved swiftly through the enclosing branches for a little ways further.

She didn't mind; it was sort of pleasant, in an odd, nerve-wracking way, to be carried along like this.  She could feel how her friend's heart beat beneath her, thudding in the violent rhythm of excitement; Kaito's breath came even but fast, keeping time to the movement of his feet as she clung tightly to him.

At last they stopped beside a large tree-trunk that rose directly beside the wall; peering past a shoulder, Aoko could see that the brickwork below had been replaced by large, ornamental stones, heavily overgrown with half-leafless vines.  "Should I start climbing down?" she murmured, a little distracted by how _comfortable_ it all felt.

_*Strong… you never think of Kaito as particularly strong, but he is.  He's built like one of his birds, strong and light.  No wonder he took to flying so easily.*_

He nodded, allowing her to slide gently down to her feet onto the leaf-littered wall; it was wider here, nearly half a meter thick.  Her hands left his shoulders reluctantly, and Aoko gritted her teeth as she began the short three-meter climb to the ground.  The vines made it relatively easy, though being able to wear something besides her school uniform would've helped immeasurably.  

The grounds looked to be very low on visitors just now; as Aoko slumped against the stonework she congratulated herself on the fact that there didn't seem to be a soul in sight anywhere.  She shook her head, dislodging a few leaves as Kaito dropped beside her with only the faintest of sounds.  "You okay?"  He picked a last twig out from behind her ear with light fingers, a little smile in his eyes.  That smile caught her attention; it was different from his usual grin—it had something strangely excited about it, something almost tense—watchfulness, curiosity, almost calculation…

He looked _intent…_ as in the word 'intention.'  And he looked almost happy.  But they weren't there for fun—they were there on business, weren't they?  So why did he seem to be enjoying himself so much?

_*I don't think he can help it; I really don't.  It's like his magic tricks—this is the preparation, the heist will be the trick.  And the funniest thing about it is that my dad looks the same way when he's heading out on a heist-watch… there's that same look of, I don't know, of anticipation; that same look like he's waking up.*_

It made her wonder what she was missing.

_*What's that old saying our English teacher uses? 'In for a penny, in for a pound'…..  Let's find out.*  Without_ thinking about it, she linked her fingers in his (missing his look of wide-eyed startlement) and continued down the path.

They had come out beside a sort of sunken water-garden with a fountain in the center; gold-throated water lilies and blue lotus raised their faces to the sun, and the air was full of dragonflies that darted this way and that like miniscule jeweled airplanes.  A discarded map was retrieved from a trashcan, and Kaito scanned it with a sharp "stomping this into memory" kind of look; after a moment he nodded.  "Lessee…..  _That_ path ought to lead us towards the Conservatory… and _*that*_ one'll take us towards the main gate.  There's a couple of traditional gardens where they set up exhibits, and here's the schedule for the Multi-Cultural displays….."  He frowned a little in concentration, shaggy hair falling over his eyes; Aoko resisted the urge to brush it back.

As it turned out, the path they wanted was the one that took them to the Garden of Fine Art up by the Kitayama Gate, just past the Clock Tower.  They wandered through the iris garden and past the spreading branches of peony trees, fragrant in the mid-day sun; leafy shadows dappled the paths, and off in the distance small groups of what turned out to be even *more* students on _real _field trips straggled by.

When their path took them into the angular shadows of a miniature bamboo forest, they walked in silence, hands still linked.  A few other students were also there, taking advantage of the cool dimness; a gardener pulled weeds over by a bench, kneeling carefully among the dark green canes.  

Kaito's fingers were warm and a little damp in hers, and Aoko wondered about that.  He wasn't _nervous,_ was he?  The idea of the boy that she had known for most of her life being nervous at all was nearly as alien as the thought of the Kid having a case of the jitters.  Kuroba Kaito was used to performing, used to putting on a show in nearly everything he did; and as for the Phantom Thief…..

"Uhh, Aoko?  Can I ask you something?"  His voice was very low.

_*He IS nervous; I can hear it.*  "_What?"  She kept walking.  Up ahead on the path a group of students were sprawled across a double bench, their voices cheerful and slightly overloud in the bamboo-curtained hush of the tiny grove.

"….well…  I, uh, was wondering if you minded… about everybody in class… talking about us as, um—"

"—as a couple?"  She fought back a smile; his fingers twitched in hers.

"Uh huh.  And saying things like, 'It's about time' and all that….."  Aoko had to strain to hear him; the Inspector's daughter thought for a moment, considered holding back for dignity's sake… and then decided that while dignity had its good points, it wasn't everything.

_*What the hell; here I am, helping a wanted thief to work up a plan for stealing a gem.  Dignity?  What dignity?*   _"Only if it's not true…"

The fingers stopped twitching; in fact, they were very still for a long moment before they tightened around hers.   "Really?"

"Really, baka.  So quit worrying about it, okay?"  Somehow she couldn't quite stop smiling.  From the corner of her eye, she caught Kaito doing the same thing.

"Okay.  Otherwise… you'll hit me with a mop or something, won't you?  Or maybe a rake, since we're outside…  I mean, just to remind me not to?"

"Mmhmm."

"Oh.  Okay…."  They continued on down the path.

*******************************************************************************************************

_**splorch!!**_

_**skip-splat-sploit-WHACK!!-splash!!**_

_**sploosh!!**_

"Oh, C'MON, Kazuha, it's not *that* hard—"  Sharp eyes narrowed slightly; a sun-browned hand flicked sideways into movement, and a stone went skipping across the small pond's surface to impact directly on the nether regions of one of the stone cupids adorning the statuary in the center_.  **splish-splash-skip-TOCK!!-splorch!!**  "_Bonsai!  Three skips, twice in a row!"

"Don't you mean _'Banzai!',_ aho?" grumbled Kazua, scowling at the uncooperative water's surface; her broken reflection scowled back as the ripples lapped against the shore.

"Naaa— the Bonsai section of the gardens is right over there," and he gestured with a thumb and a smug grin.   "Y'know, I've been wanting to use that pun all morning..."

The girl beside Hattori Heiji rolled her eyes and then turned her attention back at the bit of gravel in her hand.  Concentrating, she sent it across the water; it managed one bounce, then pinged off of a cherub's foot with a half-hearted _**pock!**_  before submerging.  "You and your silly ideas on how to pass the time…" she grumbled, mentally promising herself a chance to beat the pants off Heiji at pachinko later on.  "This is BORING."

The Osakajin rolled his eyes, hitching himself up a little more securely onto the park bench's narrow back; he sat balanced there, feet on the seat in a very typical teenaged pose.  "Yeah, well…  How long have we got left?"

Kazuha checked her watch.  "About twenty minutes; you know, five minutes less than we had the _last_ time you asked me—"  She squinted at the small café beside the Kyoto Botanical Garden's broad expanse of lawns.   She shifted restlessly; the bench wasn't the world's most comfortable thing to sit on in a school uniform.  "Let's walk, okay?  The café isn't going anywhere, and maybe we'll spot some other place to pick up something to eat in the meantime."

Her companion shrugged agreeably.  "Works for me."  He swung off of the bench-back, adjusting his usual white cap (worn in defiance of school uniform regulations, but it was amazing what you could get away with if you were persistent about it *and* consistently won a lot of kendo matches for the aforementioned school) and grimacing at the growling rumble that his stomach was currently producing.  "Hey, Kazuha-- don't suppose you've still got any of those squid chips left, do you?" he asked hopefully.

The ponytailed young woman shook her head ruefully.  "No, long gone.  Next time you can bring your _own_ snacks and quite eating all mine—"  The gripe and its grumbling response were half-automatic; there was actually a little smile on her high-cheekboned face as she glanced up at the high sun overhead.  The day had started out misty and promising rain, but the unseasonable heat had burned off most of the damp into something that felt more like late summer than mid-autumn.  

She stretched her arms over her head as she walked down the path, peripherally aware of Heiji's sidelong glance as she did so; it felt pleasant as the sunlight, and caused much the same reaction depending on its strength (a sensation of heat, the occasional sweat-drop, redness of the skin… and the consideration that she really ought to spend more time basking in its welcome warmth).  "We're supposed to meet up with the rest of the class at the Clock Tower at 3 p.m., ne?"  She yawned; the sunlight was making her sleepy.

Her companion grunted briefly in reply, also yawning; his dusky, rather angular features looked a little tired.  "Hey, you—why the shadows under the eyes?  Were you up late studying or something?"

He yawned a second time.  "Na, na; we've got guests staying with us tonight, and Mom had me helping her with the house 'til way late—the housekeeper was sick.  She was out doing something or other right up to dinner time, so we didn't get done until after eleven."

"Guests?"  Kazuha blinked; while Heiji's father and mother weren't exactly reclusive per se, they weren't the sort to do much entertaining.  "Relatives?  Do you need rescuing?  I could call and say I need your help on a class project or something—"

He shrugged, blinking dark eyes that shot green glints at her when the occasional bit of light managed to make its way through the shadow of his hat-brim.  Sometimes she wondered what improbable trick of ancestry had given him dark green eyes; it wasn't like they were exactly common.  "That's okay; thanks, though.  Actually, I was gonna to ask you if you wanted to come over; looks like some guy dad used to work with has a daughter in town on a field trip, and she's staying with us—oh, and a friend of hers too, I guess."  Heiji suddenly frowned.  "Damn, I hope this isn't one of mom's little setups….."  He trailed off, looking like he wanted to bite something.

Kazuha fought back a snicker that she knew would only lead to a full-fledged case of Massive Heiji Sulks if she let it out.  Lately his mother had moved from vague hints that a future including grandchildren would be welcome to far more blatant attempts to introduce him to 'suitable young women.'  She had a knack for getting her own way, too—it wasn't only from his rather intimidating *father* that the Detective of the West had inherited his charm and stubbornness, not to mention temper…  So far the score was sitting at Hattori-san: 3, Heiji-kun: 1 (he had managed to duck out of the second set-up by very deliberately missing his train back to Osaka from a case he had been looking into up north, arriving several hours after dinner with a faint air of triumph and a polite apology.  Mom had *not* been pleased).

His friend watched him slouch down the path, hands in pockets and hat pulled low; she wasn't quite sure about how she felt about the setups.  That is…. she _WAS_ certain that she didn't like them and she had pretty much come to the conclusion as to *why,* but now what on earth was she supposed to do about it?   Bash him in the head until he got the picture that there was a ready solution right there next to him, getting more annoyed every day about the whole thing?

Maybe she ought to talk to Ran; Ran knew all about dealing with unwieldy males…..  _*I mean, there's her father, there's that Shinichi of hers, there's even Conan-kun… nice kid, but stubborn as a brick.*_   It was a little hard to get hold of Ran just now, what with her being in America and all; somehow Kazuha had never quite managed to get a working phone number to contact her with even after all these months.  The best way to reach her seemed to be by dropping a hint in her father or mother's ear that she'd love a call…

The Osaka girl frowned at the beautiful park scenery as if it had done something offensive, like wilt or develop leaf-blight; something was going on with Ran—something was _wrong._  She'd been feeling uneasy about the whole 'moved-to-America-to-help-my-cousin-with-her-new-baby' situation for a while now, but that last conversation…..

Ran had called her one evening about two weeks past; they had been laughing together like the friends they were over all sorts of stuff—movies that had come out, an article in a magazine they both liked, something stupid that Shinichi-kun had said to Ran the other day, that sort of thing.  Kazuha had been missing Ran a lot, but she was glad that the Tokyo girl had finally managed to get together with that baka Shinichi—it was about time.  And she had sounded so much happier when she talked about him…  There _*had*_ been this odd note of sadness now and then, though, when Kazuha had teased her about 'how long 'til the wedding, huh?' or commented that they'd both be graduating soon and maybe they could see each other during vacation before college started…  She always seemed to grow a little quieter, a little pensive whenever something came up that concerned _time._

Why?  Why _time?_

And then… it had been such a *tiny* little thing, such a small slip of the tongue (if that's what it was); Kazuha had been giggling over an episode of a show she had seen the night before, and Ran had quoted a line from the show right back at her, laughing all the while.  It hadn't been much, just that one remark—but how had the Mouri girl even _SEEN_ the show?  It hadn't been a rerun—she had checked; and it wouldn't be televised on any of the American channels that carried Japanese series for at least two months…..

….. so how had Ran seen it at all?  Kazuha hadn't asked; she hadn't even thought of the question until after she had hung up.

"—Kazuha?  Yo, Kazuha?"  

She felt a tug on her pony-tail and yipped as the red hair-ribbon she habitually wore came loose.  "What're you _doing,_ you—  Give me that!"  Futilely she grabbed at the bright strip of cloth as Heiji teasingly held it up out of her reach.  

The young detective had put on another growth spurt over the last six months or so, shooting up to level with his rather alarmingly looming father's height; now he was putting it to good use.  "That's what you get for daydreaming, bonsai-for-brains;" he flipped the ribbon in the air, snapping it like a tiny whip.  

She snatched at it again, jumping as he dangled it just a little bit too high.  "What IS it with you and the bonsai today?  Trying to overcome some shortcomings or something?  Give that BACK, aho!!  I don't have any extra with me today—I _*SAID*_ give it _*back!!*" _  For reasons unknown Heiji had lately taken to snitching her hair-ribbons at every opportunity.  She gritted her teeth; _*When I get my hands on him I'm going to make him EAT it!*_

"Ooooh, nasty sharp tongue you got there, 'Zuha—"  He danced backwards, his prize fluttering in his hand, a grin as wide as Kyoto itself flashing white teeth in a dark face.  "Better watch you don't cut your**_WHOOPS_**_--!!"_ **  With a yelp he went over backwards, feet stumbling on a path-curbstone.  _**THUMP!!**  "_Awp!"**

Triumphantly Kazuha snatched at her ribbon as it twirled down through the air above him; simultaneously Heiji grabbed for the other end.  The predictable result was, of course, a loud "YEEP!" from Kazuha-kun as her lighter body was jerked forward to land with a resounding _"WHUMPF!" _right beside him on the grass.

For a moment they sprawled there, startled, linked by the ribbon in their hands; Heiji's eyes widened, laughter and astonishment making the green seem a little brighter than before as he took in her expression and the disheveled hair tumbling into her face.  As she yanked the hair-tie back from his fingers and sat up, scowling, he blinked at her from the ground.  "Ne, Kazuha?  You ought to wear your hair down more often, you know that?" was all he said as he linked his hands behind his head, propping one foot on the other across the curb that had tripped him.

She climbed to her feet, dusting grass from her uniform and legs in the process; Heiji remained where he was, an odd look on his face as he watched.  "Gonna help me up?"

Kazuha paused, hands full of her hair as she vainly tried to put it back up; it seemed to have a mind of its own today.  "You got yourself down there just fine, you can manage on your own…"  But she took the hand he held up anyway, nearly pulled off-balance as he clambered back to his feet.  "Oi, Heiji, what've you been eating for breakfast lately?  Lead bricks?  I *told* you to quit with the afternoon sticky-buns—"  They continued on, arguing amicably, the fracas behind them neither more nor less important than a thousand thousand others had been; it was all just one more conversation in their usual daily dialogue.

_*Ran-chan; I really REALLY need to talk to Ran.  Maybe if I call her dad…..*  "_Heiji?  Does it really look okay down?"  When he looked clueless, she added impatiently, "My HAIR, aho.  Does it look okay?  It's not cooperating with the ribbon again—"

"Mmph; sure."  He still had that odd look on his face; had she hurt his feelings or something?  Maybe she shouldn't have made that crack about the bonsai…

_*But we always tease each other like that—I mean, it gets really harsh sometimes, but we both know we don't mean it.  I didn't—I mean, I *REALLY* didn't want to hurt his feelings or anything, I was just… fighting back.  Playing, like we do all the time.  Is he mad at me?*_  She called herself several names in her head, watching his expression as their path took them into what the map called the "Bamboo Grove", a cool, bench-lined place of mossy stones and tiny bridges.  She pushed her hair back behind one ear; It felt a little strange to have it down loose around her face and out of its usual ponytail.  Maybe _that_ was why he kept staring?

_*He's STILL looking at me--funny.  What's *wrong?*  Maybe I really did hurt his feelings…..*_  "Heiji?  Is anything—I mean, are you—um…  Did I…?..."

Now his expression had changed to somewhat baffled amusement.  "Babbling again, 'Zuha.  WHAT are you trying to say?"  And then he looked past her and it changed again, flickering over into a full-scale grin; he snickered.  "Guess some people like the atmosphere here….."

_*Huh?  --Oh.*  There_ were a couple of other students parked on a bench in an enthusiastic embrace; a little embarrassed (and maybe just a touch envious), Kazuha reflexively checked their uniform colors and then looked away.  _*Not from any school I know, I don't think… and I couldn't see their faces anyway, even if they were.  Wow… they're really sort of, um, intense…*  She_ hurried her steps a little more, passing the couple with a faint flush rising in her cheeks.

_*I wonder… if Heiji's ever kissed anybody before?  Oh c'mon, Kazuha, he's eighteen—sure he has, don't be silly.  Bet he's good at it, too…..*  She_ glanced back over her shoulder; they were _still_ kissing.

Overhead, the arching canes of the miniature bamboo forest made angular patterns against the sky; the leafy shadows were cool and green on the Osaka girl's skin, a welcome relief against the unusually hot sunlight.  "So, um, these visitors you've got coming—what are they like?  Are you going to take them anywhere?" she said, trying to fill what had turned into an unexpectedly awkward silence.  An old gardener worked busily in the flowerbeds to one side, stuffing weeds into a canvas bag.

Heiji shrugged, pushing his cap back; a preoccupied frown had taken up residence, replacing the odd look of concentration from earlier.  "I've never met them, so how would I know?  And I wasn't planning on anything 'cept maybe heading out to the Mall or whatever.  Got any ideas?  You're coming too, right?"

She shrugged back, somehow both a little pleased and miffed at the same time by his automatic assumption that she had nothing better to do than hang around with him.  "I guess.  Places… let me think—"

He grinned again, sharp eyes twinkling.  "Naa, naa, no thinking, we haven't got all day—"

Kazuha swatted at him half-heartedly, missing; she dropped her ribbon without noticing, but _*did*_ notice him as he picked it up and pocketed it absentmindedly.  "Maybe we could… I don't know, get something to eat and see a movie together or something?"

That earned her another one of those odd looks.  "Oi—this isn't a *date* or anything, aho; for all I know these two don't even get along.  The only reason they're staying with us at all is something to do with the girl's father—I got the idea he was involved in some sort of dangerous situation, so they're keeping a close watch on his daughter for safety's sake.  For all _*I*_ know we're not even gonna be allowed to leave the house…"

She blinked.  "Really?  Well—we could just wing it, then… maybe watch some movies—"  Kazuha was staying the night herself, due to her parents' sudden decision to travel north for an antique auction.

"Yeah, I guess.  Um.  Kazuha?"  

And now he was sounding _funny_ again; what the hell was he thinking about THIS time?  "What?"

"….. nothing.  Never mind.  It—C'mon, it ought to be time to head back to the café; let's go, okay?  I'm starving!"  He sped up, glancing back to make sure she was following; Kazuha heaved an irritated sigh and hurried to catch up.

_*And he's LOOKING at me in that weird way again!!!  AAAAGH!!*  She_ suppressed a complicated urge to either swat Heiji with a piece of bamboo or possibly to throw a fit of some sort.  _*That does it.  I have **GOT** to talk to Ran-chan, no ifs, ands or buts.  If anybody knows how to handle pain-in-the-butt males, it's her—and if I don't figure out what's wrong with him soon, I may end up either feeding him his motorcycle or jumping off a bridge.  Or both.*  "_Wait UP, will you?  And what do you mean YOU'RE starving?  Who ate all my squid chips, huh?  Who—"

Their steps receded into the distance as they left the bamboo grove, still arguing amiably about lunch.

*******************************************************************************************************

And back on the bench…..

_"…..!!!"_

"Uh… WHEEeeew…..  Sorry 'bout that, but—uh, well, actually I'm NOT sorry….."

"Baka!!  Next time TELL me if you're going to—to—!!  WHAT was—I mean, you—"  Aoko's cheeks were flaming as she pulled slightly back, not noticing (or maybe just not caring) that her hands were still gripping Kaito's shoulders.

The magician was more than a little flushed himself, though a silly grin kept breaking past his embarrassment.  He had suddenly become rather pop-eyed in mid-conversation and had yanked Aoko over onto a bench and into a kiss with no more than a muttered _"Play along, explain in a minute"_ of warning—a _*long* _kiss, and a rather involved one as kisses went.  _Really_ rather involved, actually…  Kaito indicated the path with a jerk of his chin (both arms were still lightly clasped around Aoko's waist).  "'Next time,' huh?  At your service, Aoko-sama, I promise I'll do my absolute best—  Jeeze, Aoko, can you ever blush……  Did you see those two a minute ago, the students that just passed us?"

"NO."  She glared at him.  "I was thinking of something else at the time—!"

That made the grin break through again, sunlight through clouds.  "You know those guys we're staying with tonight?  The big-shot Inspector and his detective son?  _*THAT*_ was the son just then.  Good thing I've seen him before…..  Somebody Up There must really, really hate me—I mean, what are the odds that they'd be here today?  Must be on a field trip—  I don't think they got much of a look at us, though, they were being polite—well, maybe his girlfriend there did; she kept sneaking glances before they got past."

Aoko had gotten enough composure back by now to become indignant.  "You mean you were paying attention to *them* the whole time?!?"  Danger signals were beginning to flash on and off in her expression as she became aware of her position in his arms—and of _his_ in _hers,_ for that matter.  "Awp!"

She began to pull back, but Kaito just chuckled and shook his head.  "Give me a break—d'you _really_ think that?"  A devilish spark was beginning to dance in his eyes, and his grin only widened.  "Heh; maybe you're right— Now, how can I apologize?  Oh wait, **_I_ know…"**

"KAITO!!  Mmph—!!"

A few feet away, the old gardener chuckled silently to himself over the actions of the couple on the bench and continued with his weeding.  "Teenagers these days…"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

It took a little doing for the two of them to get their minds back on track, but a few minutes later found Aoko and Kaito on the path again, wary eyes open for any more familiar faces.  Aoko smoothed her hair back into place, her cheeks still a little warm.  "Aren't we supposed to be making plans?" she asked, fighting down a strong urge to smile at the young man beside her; he was looking almost intolerably smug.

"Huh?  Oh—right.  Plans."  Turning a little more serious, Kaito pulled out his copy of the map to the gardens, glanced at it, then pocketed it again.  "According to this, the gardens are open from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.; the groundskeepers and officer personnel probably come in an hour before, since the ticket office starts selling at 8:30 a.m."  He frowned, staring off into the distance as they rounded the curve that brought them out of the bamboo grove.  "If the exhibit in the Fine Arts Building has anything that'll make a good target, I'll need to figure the guard schedule—that means coming back tonight—"

Aoko's eyebrows shot up into her hairline.  "Tonight?!?—but—"

The young magician—the young _thief,_ she had to remind herself again—regarded her curiously.  "Well, yeah.  When you case a location for a heist, it's a really big mistake to only look at it in the daytime.  I mean, you didn't think I was going to do my little song-and-dance while the sun was shining, did you?"

Now that she thought about it…..  Aoko hesitated, a coldness beginning to creep down her spine.  "You'll be careful though, won't you?"

Kaito laughed softly, his fingers linked in hers.  "I promise.  And hey, what could happen?  I'm just gonna do a little recon tonight, nothing more.  Just to get a look at the setup after dark—y'know, check on how the alarms are set, what routes the guards walk, when the sprinkler systems come on…"

"Sprinkler systems?"

"Yeah—trust me, you haven't *lived* until you've been hit square in the face by an automatic sprinkler's jet halfway through an outside heist.  Scared the crap out of me AND got me soaking wet in the process."  He looked rueful.  "Caught a cold too…..  The only consolation was that your dad got drenched as well."  He snorted at her indignant expression, totally unrepentant.

Their talk had taken them to the base of the garden's Clock Tower by now; they both peered up at it, playing good little students-on-a-field-trip.  Neither said a thing, but both faces were just a little reminiscent as they passed onwards and entered the Fine Arts Building.

Which was, unfortunately, a total and complete bust.

"Paintings, more paintings, weird statuary, carvings, pottery, MORE carvings…..  Aaargh!!"  Kaito looked mournfully around at the scatter of exhibits, muttering in an irritated monologue beneath his breath.  "Where are all the jewels?  One measly little piece of Chinese turquoise inlay in the entire show, and no sparklies around _anywhere??"_  

Aoko peered into a glass case; a vividly-decorated African mask peered back through carved wooden eyes.  "Maybe this one doesn't *have* any jewelry… maybe this is all there is.  Or maybe—"

"Excuse me, young sir, young miss….. I believe that the exhibit you're looking at would be in the Conservatory," broke in a quiet, polite voice.  Aoko jumped, squeaking slightly, while Kaito simply froze in place with his eyes wide and alert.

The speaker wore a slightly dirty-around-the-knees dark green coverall with the Garden's logo on the breast-pocket; a trowel was tucked into one capacious pocket and leather-palmed gloves were stuffed through the coverall's belt.  He looked vaguely familiar—and Aoko suddenly blushed, recognizing the elderly weeder from the bamboo grove.  The grey-haired man chuckled at her expression.  "It's all right, miss; I'm sure I didn't see a _thing_ out of place earlier…"  He pushed back his workman's cap, scratching at his forehead.

Kaito had gone rather blank-faced—no; actually, as Aoko realized after a second, he had gone rather *poker-faced.*  He fixed an unblinking gaze calmly on the other man, sharp eyes missing nothing.  "The… Conservatory, you said?  Now, how would you know just what we wanted to find?"

The gardener gave a mild shrug.  "You did mention 'sparklies'…..  There's quite an exhibit of jeweled statuary being shown there just now."  He cast a disparaging glance over the glass cases that filled the room.  "I'm afraid that this lot is nothing that would really interest a young man of your… particular tastes.  And those of your young lady, of course.  The both of you might find the Conservatory to be a refreshing place to visit today; I'll be doing a little weeding in the Orangery there myself in a few minutes."  He smiled complacently at them, his grey moustache twitching just a little above his beard.

Aoko blinked at him suspiciously.  This was just a little *too* convenient.  She stole a glance at Kaito, who seemed to be staying remarkably calm…..

"Mmmhmmm.  Well, I appreciate the tip.  Jaa!"  With that, he caught Aoko by an elbow and steered her towards the door.  "Gotta go now, 'scuse me, coming through….."  And they were out the door and moving at a good clip across the grass before she had a chance to protest.

"KAItoooooooo—what on Earth?!?  Slow *down!!*"  Annoyed, the Inspector's daughter yanked her arm away; she kept up with her quickly moving companion, but as they tore down the paths she complained "WHAT was all that about, anyway?  Did you know that man?"

One corner of Kuroba Kaito's mouth twitched as he bounced up several sidewalk steps at a crossing of two pathways.  "Heh; yeah, I do… and so do you.  You remember Jii?  You met him a time or two at his billiards hall…."

"Jii-san?  Oh—he's the one who—"

"—who helps me, yeah.  Well…" and Kaito shot her a sideways look composed of a mixture of embarrassment, mischief and gathering excitement.  "… _That_ was Jii just then."  He gave a snort of laughter.  "And I'll bet he just LOVED having to spend his morning pulling weeds; he's got terrible hay-fever allergies—he'll be sneezing for a week."

The Inspector's daughter nearly tripped over a crack in the path.  "That was JII-SAN?  Since when did he grow a beard?!?  And he looked… I don't know, his skin looked darker and…"  Kaito was giving her the sort of pitying glance you saved up for those afflicted by early senility; she glared back.  "Okay, okay.  A disguise.  I guess that makes sense—but Kaito, I'm having to get used to all of this!  I don't usually think of people wearing disguises, not even *you*-- I mean, you've never worn one in front of ME except for your, uhh, working clothes….."

He was still giving her that _look; _and he was smirking, too_._  "You haven't… have you?  --What am I _saying?_  Of *course* you have.  When and where?"

Side by side they took their last turn towards the Conservatory, which loomed a little ways ahead of them with the Koto River running behind it.  "Do you remember that photographer who took your and Keiko-kun's picture a couple of months ago at the beach, the one who offered to rub suntan-oil on your back?"  He was grinning.  "And that sort of chunky college-student that was riding on the bus next to you last Saturday, the one in the red sweatshirt with the grease-stains on the sleeve?"  Aoko had come to a sudden halt by now, eyes wide; Kaito paused a step or two ahead, his grin becoming a just little wicked.  "And what about that girl you talked to in the crowd just after that heist last May—y'know, the one where I snitched that huge, tacky opal?  Remember her?  She asked you for directions to the bus-station….."

Her jaw dropped.  "Kaito—wait a minute, wait—  That was a _girl—"_

"Nope.  Me."

"Oh, come _ON—"_

"Honest to God, cross my heart and hope to die if I'm lying.  Me."  He caught Aoko by one hand, yanking her back into motion.  "C'mon, baka!  We're gonna run out of time—"

She hung back.  "Kaito, she….. _you_ were wearing _*PANTYHOSE.*_  I _saw_ them—"

The thief turned huge, wounded eyes on her, walking backwards so as not to lose his grip.  "You were staring at my LEGS?!?  Aokoooo… tsk.  I am so disappointed…..  And all this time, I thought you were a nice, straight, normal—"

The Inspector's daughter sputtered, nearly falling over as she was dragged towards the steps into the Conservatory.  _"KAITO!!!_  How could I—I mean, I couldn't *help* but—your SKIRT was too short!!!" she wailed.  Then (as her outcry got a number of very odd looks from passers-by) she dropped her voice, asking incredulously:  "You—you don't REALLY wear p-pantyhose under your, your Kid outfit… do you?"

"Yup—for that silky-smooth tuxedo-tight fit, preferred by Phantom Thieves and their screaming fangirls everywhere," he agreed cheerfully as he pushed the door open with an elbow.  At Aoko's horrified expression he finally lost it, leaning helplessly against the wall of the entrance and howling with laughter until he was out of breath; _she,_ however, simply stood there, glaring.  When Kaito regained enough composure to be able to do something beside gasp weakly for breath, he leaned close (still grinning) and whispered reassuringly:

"Don't worry, I'm not a pervert; I only wear 'em when I'm in drag."  Then, wheeling about, he grabbed her hand again.  "C'_mon_, Aoko—"

"And that's supposed to make me feel _better?"_ she muttered, but allowed herself to be pulled along through the aisles of greenery.

And greenery there was in abundance.  The Conservatory of the Kyoto Botanical Gardens was an old building dating back more than thirty years, built along the lines of the elaborate European glass monstrosities from the Victorian Age.  More than three stories tall in the grand central garden, it octopussed out in various directions with great, wandering glass-and-flagstone tentacles filled with vegetation of every conceivable type.

It was humid and it was nearly hot; no, make that past 'nearly' and way into 'definitely.'  Aoko wiped at a drop of perspiration that trickled down her neck, craning her head up to stare at the shaggy branches of a moss-draped oak as they jolted along the path.  Kaito seemed to know where he was going… or at least she *hoped* he knew, since he was dragging her behind him.  The Inspector's daughter heaved a sigh and picked her feet.

Heavy, ornate wrought-iron doors with thick beveled glass panes separated the gigantic complex of greenhouses; one room led to an endless series of others, and Aoko vaguely recalled Kaito saying something during their walk about this being the largest conservatory in Japan.  They passed from the central Courtyard of the Palms into the Orchidarium, where fantastic blooms hung in tropical splendor from tree boles or peered out from beneath clinging vines and where the scents of humus and rich earth made them both sneeze; from there, the path took them into a sunken garden in which black, white and golden koi lipped at the surface of deep pools.  Overhead birds darted and sang songs not often heard outside of the Amazon Basin; it was muggy and hot, and Kaito's sweat-damp mop of hair kept falling into his eyes.

A small ornamental bridge took them past an expanse of enormous water-lilies _('Victoria Amazonica,'_ read the sign indicating the meter-wide lilypads) where a door surrounded by a geometric pattern of red and gold glass beckoned; Kaito headed straight for this, and Aoko saw that the delicate Romaji letters of the ironwork sign above the entrance read simply:  _ORANGERI D'ITALIA.  _The heavy door swung shut upon their heels.

Inside, it was a little cooler and less humid than the previous rooms had been; the Italian Orangery was a tall, broad room filled to overflowing with what at first looked to be some sort of bizarre citrusy forest.  A closer look showed gravel paths that took one through trees laden with both fruit and flowers, whose clipped branches were just high enough not to knock careless passersby in the head as they wandered in their shade.  There were few conservatory-goers around, though; the Orangery was one of the furthest rooms back, and perhaps a little less ornate than the others.

Which was just as well, really…..  Kaito and Aoko wandered forward, drawn towards the sound of falling water; a narrow fountain decorated with florid Milanese tilework centered the room, and upon its rim sat Jii with his workman's cap in his hands.

He was eating an orange; as they approached he stuffed the last of the peel into one rather grubby pocket and sighed reminiscently, glancing around.  "Such a place to find in Kyoto; I'd almost think I was back in the orchards of Valencia…..  I spent a summer there when I was seventeen, you know.  Ahhh, memories—" he added at Kaito's inquiring look.  "Well, young master?  Follow me; I know an excellent place to sit…"

_*'Young master'??*  Aoko_ stifled an unladylike snort and carefully kept her eyes off her friend's face as they followed.

The older man led them to a small bench in a corner, half-hidden by the pleached branches of several lime trees; the sharp scent of the ripe fruit made the air tingle.   As the two teenagers sank down, Jii-san allowed a small smile to cross his lips.  "I understand that you've, eh, become aware of the Kuroba family business, Nakamori-san?  Or may I call you Aoko-san?"

She shifted a little nervously, nodding; this oddly elegant man in his stained coveralls was quite different from the easy-going, rather quiet Jii-san who she had met a time or two back in his Tokyo billiards hall.  There, he had seemed to blend into the background more or less (well, except for one evening that had acquired a patina of blurriness in her mind—it seemed to have involved alcohol, more alcohol, a complicated game of some sort and a _piano_ of all things; Aoko had firmly decided that this was something she didn't really want to think too much about); he had gone quietly about his business behind the bar or along the edges of the room without disturbing the patrons much.  Kaito was fond of him, she knew that; and he had told her quite a bit about the man's involvement with both his father's and his own 'carreers' without actually telling much about Jii-san himself.

Maybe he didn't know; a thing or two he had said had indicated as much…

But now Jii-san's smile had widened a little; those crinkled, clever old eyes looked at her with a kind of sympathy.  "Thank you, then.  And… welcome; I understand that this must all seem a bit difficult to take in— though I must say that I've been expecting it for some time, given your proximity and, err, closeness…"

She flushed; she couldn't help it, remembering a certain bench in a certain bamboo grove.  The clever eyes twinkled and Jii's moustache twitched though he said nothing more.

A rather theatrical throat-clearing sound broke the stretch of silence then, and Kaito leaned forward with an impatient look on his face.  "Okay, okay, fine, she _knows_ and—err, well, I've been….."

The older man chuckled.  "—and you've been showing her a little surveillance work, mmm?  Well, why not; it's safe enough—which, by the way, I would _*not*_ consider your home neighborhood to be just now."  His good-humored expression faded as Kaito looked up sharply, and he nodded.  "Yes; there's a problem.  I came back to Tokyo after discussing your current situation with your good mother—and I must tell you, young master, that I am very glad *indeed* that you two have finally broken silence—and decided to take a quick look around your house before making my way here.  You have watchers."

Kaito drew a sharp breath, leaning slowly back against the bench.  "Yeah, thought I might…  How many did you see?"

Jii-san frowned momentarily, chewing on his moustache in a habitual sort of way that reminded Aoko of her father; she wondered absently if he had driven his two police 'watchdogs' crazy yet.  Probably.  "I saw two… and they both seemed to be in contact with others via cellphone.  That is, each spoke to someone on the other end before being relieved by a second shift—"

"—wearing black, right?"  Kaito's eyes were introspective, a brooding thoughtfulness beginning to darken their blue.  "Black jackets, trenchcoats, hats, whatever?  And shades?"

"Mmm," agreed Jii, looking a little perplexed.  "I did wonder about the sunglasses… it _was_ night, and yet they kept them on—"

The young thief scowled.  "I know.  Bastards.  Uhh, Jii…"

But the older man continued.  "I understand, young master Kaito, that you've decided on a non-Tokyo target; that's prudent, although I must confess that Kyoto strikes me as both a bit too near for true safety's sake as well as too far for easy access…..  However, once you've seen the jeweled East Indian statues, I think you'll—"

_"Jii—"_

"—find that they'll prove to be good possibilities… although I _*do*_ wish sometimes that you'd occasionally consider something other than simply returning your cast-offs….. eh?"  The gray-haired man suddenly seemed to realize that Kaito had been becoming increasingly annoyed.  "Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

_"Jii_…..  I found it."

The older thief blinked.  "'Found it?'"

"….. yeah.  The Pandora Gem—I **_*found*_** it.  And," Kaito took a deep breath, "I _destroyed_ it."

The effect this sentence had on the older man was extraordinary; his breath caught in his lungs with an audible hitch, almost as if someone had slammed a door there.  Face suddenly pale beneath what Aoko could now recognize (though only because she knew what he _really_ looked like) as makeup, Jii's cap fell to the ground from suddenly nerveless hands as he stared wordlessly at Kaito.  

He suddenly looked much older.

At last he found his voice.  "… the Akuti's Eye, then?  That emerald at the University?"  Jii swallowed, regaining a little of his composure back.  "You—mentioned it before I left—"

"That one, right."  Speaking quietly and swiftly, Kaito laid out the bare facts.  Rather to Aoko's surprise he even mentioned Ayumi, but Jii-san evidenced no amazement there—maybe he already knew about the little girl, at least as Kaito's 'apprentice.'  That was a little disturbing but probably harmless, so long as he didn't think that the child was being groomed to be the _next_ version of the Kid…..

The Inspector's daughter was vainly trying to fight off disturbing images of Ayumi-chan in a sort of Saint Tail/Kaitou Kid cross of an outfit (complete with pet hedgehog and hang-glider) when she was abruptly jerked back to the present by an exclamation of _"WHAT?!? _ Give me a *BREAK,* Jii—you can't be serious!!"  She jumped slightly as the older man put a cautioning finger before his own lips.  Kaito subsided, but only slightly; he was looking more than a little rattled, and he opened his mouth again in another retort before Jii shook his head, cutting him off.  The older man seemed a bit agitated himself, but there was an oddly excited, hopeful air about the way he looked at his 'young master.'

"Just think about it, please; that's all… I'm not asking that you actually _*do*_ anything just yet—you have enough on your plate at the moment—just that you consider it as an option for the future."  He spread his hands placatingly; the fingers, while wrinkled and age-spotted, were long and supple—just like Kaito's.  _*Magician's hands,*_ thought Aoko; _*Thief's hands.*  What_ on earth had she missed?

She'd have to find out later; her companions were on the move again.  "This way—and I think you'll see what I mean when you view the statues," Jii-san was saying, an appreciative glint in his eyes as he escorted them to the Orangery's door.  "They're quite extraordinary, and if you wanted to possibly draw out our enemies with some sort of secondary Pandora Gem lure, you could do worse than chose a target of the same national origin as your last acquisition; the Akuti's Eye was East Indian, wasn't it?"

Kaito's face grew thoughtful.  "Now _*there's*_ an idea…..  Let's take a look."

They passed through several more gardens; Aoko was particularly taken with the beautiful Rose Arbor Room, wishing she could show it to Ayumi; the little girl was much on her mind as she wistfully looked over her shoulder back at the multicolored wealth of sweet-scented blossoms.   Their way took them through an arboretum full of medicinal herbs, a butterfly garden and a peculiar landscape imported from the American West; Kaito peered darkly up at a sprawling, nightmarish-looking Joshua Tree, wondering aloud if the things moved when you weren't looking.  Aoko eyed the twisted tentacle-like branches and shuddered.

The younger thief glanced back at the older one as they passed a barrel cactus.  "How'd you get here so quick, by the way?  We left before you did, but you were here first…?"

Jii-san lifted one shoulder in a shrug (a gesture which Aoko had noticed Kaito using occasionally; she filed the thought away with a bemused internal smile); "Service tunnels; they run beneath the Gardens."  He tugged his cap low as they passed a guard.

The last door let them into a side-room of the central hall that they had entered from the outside, but far in the back; a crowd was milling around, and the three slipped unobtrusively into their edges.  "The statues are over there," said Jii quietly, handing over a pair of brochures; "You might want to pay attention to the one on the far left….."  He glanced carefully around, noticing several authentic members of the Garden's staff about their business in the room.  "I should be heading back to my 'duties' and then away before I'm noticed."  He slipped his heavy gloves back out of his pocket, replacing his cap and tugging it low on his head.

Towing Aoko behind him, Kaito began to gently thread his way through the crowd; but Aoko spoke up hesitantly.  "Um, Jii-san?  How *did* you get into the Gardens in the first place?  _We_ climbed over the wall…"

The older man chuckled, a small smile appearing beneath his moustache.  "So you did; I saw a little of your progress along the wall—oh, don't worry, I very much doubt anybody _*else*_ did, unless they were up on a rooftop like myself; I was expecting you, after all…"  Aoko blinked at this, but Kaito merely nodded.  "I arrived in Tokyo around lunchtime yesterday, saw your watchers, recalled what your mother had said about your field trip here and left later that evening.  I spent the night in a quiet little hotel a few blocks South, had breakfast in a charming little place down the street….. and then simply paid my admittance fee and entered with the rest of the morning crowd."

"Oh."  She blinked again; Kaito gave a snort of laughter.

"See you later, Jii—what's your schedule?"  The young thief had turned towards the displays a dozen or so meters away, trying to squint past the crowd.  "Gonna hang around Kyoto for a night or so more, maybe?"

The older man raised an eyebrow beneath his hatbrim.  "I certainly wouldn't mind doing so; it's such a pleasant place, and with such a low crime-rate… and the gardens are so lovely at this time of the year."

Kaito grinned back over his shoulder.  "Yeah; bet they're nice at night too, ne…?  Jaa!  C'mon, Aoko, let's go see the sparklies—"

A few minutes later….

"Now THAT," said the thief almost reverently, "is what **_*I*_ call _Religious Art.*"  He_ stood on tiptoes just a little to see over the milling crowd of students and other tourists.  "Why doesn't stuff like this show up in Tokyo?"  He flipped open a brochure that he had snagged from a passing tourguide and read the description out loud for Aoko:  "'Blah blah blah…. National treasures of India, blah blah, blah…..  The Padme Collection contains a series of jeweled temple bronzes, created during the blah, blah, blah, historical blah, blah, blah... six statues adorned with rare and unusual gems worth over two billion yen alone….'  Jeeeeeeze….."**

They really were impressive.  An even half-dozen gilded bronze statues stood in a half-circle of exquisite shrines, glittering with a Sultan's ransom of emeralds, rubies, sapphires and other stones.  And they weren't the usual stiffly-posed, formal figures you usually saw in religious imagery; these gods were dancing, had their arms upraised or stood poised as if to go into battle.  The beautiful silver-ornaments figure of Krishna was playing a flute, and a god on the far left had all four arms extended in graceful invitation.  Kaito, however, shuddered when he noticed that one of the others was riding some sort of bizarre, monstrous fish.

They both strolled over to take a look at the last one on the left (safely away from the fish).  Aoko took the brochure from Kaito, scrolling down the paragraphs.  "Let's see… 'Krishna, Shiva, Hanuman, Lakshmi, Chandra and Varuna'… this one's Chandra, god of the moon, son of Hanuman…  Which one's Hanuman?"  She peered down the line of exhibits.  "That one—Kaito, look!  It's a monkey-god; he's got a silver tail…  Oh, I remember, we read about the Epic of Hanuman in Humanities Class—"

"Mmhm," muttered Kaito; his eyes had sharpened and were examining the exhibit, taking in every detail from how the statues stood in their paneled shrines to the security cameras mounted high overhead and lower down on every column…..

….. not to mention the guards.  Oh, not the ones from the Gardens themselves, so very visible in their coveralls; no, the ones in the casual jackets and slacks with their hands in their pockets, standing here and there about the room with their eyes fixed carefully on their homeland's treasures.  You'd think they were just tourists taking advantage of the view, maybe planning a late lunch or waiting to meet friends… except for one little detail.  It was a pity that whoever had assigned them to their posts with such attention to anonymity hadn't considered that there just weren't that many East Indians living in Japan.  They _*did*_ tend to stand out a bit.

The crowd had thinned a little by the time they made their way back towards the monkey-god to the far right; it was lunchtime and people's stomachs were dragging them out and towards the Gardens' few cafés.  Kaito stood staring up at the figure of Hanuman with a faintly vague, bored look on his face; if you weren't paying attention to his eyes, you'd think he was just another student on a class outing who would much rather be doing something else.  Which, of course, was the idea; it wouldn't do to be picked up on the overhead cameras as looking too excited—far better to be nothing more than one more body in a school uniform.

He was looking thoughtfully up at the ornate bit of jewelry resting on the monkey-god's forehead; Aoko peered at it as well.  "Pretty… it sort of looks like OOF!"  That last was due to the application of a quick elbow in her side even as Kaito turned away with a yawn, tugging at her arm.  "What was *that* for?" she asked indignantly; "And where are we going already?  We just got here—"

Her companion towed her out through the stragglers and slower bits of the crowd, impatience plain on his face.  "C'mon, Aoko, I'm hungry; let's get something before the lines get too long…"  A quick flick of one finger against Kaito's lips as he reached up to brush the hair out of his eyes made her drop her annoyed retort; a little bemused, she allowed herself to be dragged through the doors back out onto the stairs and down the walk back into the main garden paths.

Kaito dropped his voice, a faint note of amusement beneath his words.  "Here's Uncle Kaito's lesson number one in casing a heist-location for you:  _NEVER show too much interest, especially in public._  You don't want Security picking you out from the video tapes later on, do you?  So you look at your target only as much as the general public would, no more; and then you leave.  'Sides, I already found out what I needed to know…"

"Huh?  What?  We were only there for a few minutes—"

They turned down the path leading back through the bamboo grove again; it was fairly deserted by now.  "Heh; a few minutes are all I need—I'm **_*good*_** at this, remember?" Kaito said calmly, without any hint of boasting; it was merely a statement of fact.  "Anyway… First off," he ticked the points off from long, narrow fingers, "I saw what was available as a target and where it was placed; second, I checked out where the security cameras were.  Third, I got a look at who the guards were—and believe me, I'm _good_ at memorizing faces—and fourth, I saw what kinds of entrances and exits the place has.  Fifth, I spotted the alarm mechanisms on the glass windows, so I'll either have to bypass them or go in through another way.  Sixth, I—"

She shook her head, a little astonished at how quickly he had picked up his information.  "Okay, okay… so you'll be going back tonight?"  Aoko looked a little anxious.  "Ummm… I don't know if I'd be any help, but do you—"

The young thief cut her off with a grateful, slightly rueful headshake.  "Nooooo…  this'll be a quick in-and-out job, just a hop over the wall, a little scouting around… nothing too difficult or exciting, believe me."  Kaito laughed softly, kicking at a leaf as it fluttered down in front of them.  "Y'know, you always hear cops and detectives grumbling about the legwork they have to do to solve their cases on the TV shows; at least *they* don't have to worry about being jailed or shot if they slip up and get the security guard's routines wrong or run into a lock they can't pick.  Not that I'm likely to do that any time soon—"  He grinned as the Inspector's daughter made a face.  "But legwork… I do an unbelievable amount of it for most jobs.  Today's, now, heh; it was easy… a real walk in the park, in fact….."

That was enough to send them both into laughter for a moment; then they sobered as they slowed beside the sunken garden where they had climbed over before.  Two kids—little boys, about ten years old—were playing with sticks around the waterlily pool, poking at the pads and flowers; their parents sat nearby on a bench, contentedly finishing off what looked to be a quick lunch from one of the Garden's little cafés.  "We need them _*gone*_ from here," muttered Kaito, gnawing on his lower lip.  Then a gleam of mischief stole into his eyes, and he rummaged around for a second in his pockets.  "Lemmee see….. got JUST the thing here, if I can find it…  You got your umbrella handy, Aoko?"

Puzzled, she pulled the collapsible umbrella out of her backpack.  "Right here.  Why?"

He gave her the kind of innocent little smile that would have been at home on the face of a marble angel (well, a _fallen_ one, maybe).  "Just pop it loose and get ready to open it, okay?"  One long-fingered hand flickered slightly, and a single silvery sphere about the size of a marble was suddenly balanced between two fingers; a dive into one pocket produced something that made her wrinkle her forehead—what on _Earth?_  It seemed to be a pointless-looking sort of metal-and-rubber-tubing device, with a handle at one end…..  

Aoko's bewilderment faded into wide-eyed comprehension as Kaito carefully fitted the contraption over his hand and the sphere into the strap of rubber that ran between two metal arms.  "It's called a 'wrist-rocket'; I bought it online.  Now, here we go—  One….. two….. and, _three!"  _WHAPPITA!!  The sphere was suddenly en route towards the open end of the pond—

_**sploosh—**_

"Now!" he hissed.  Aoko hastily popped the umbrella open and up—

_**BWHSHHH!!**_

It wasn't really much of an explosion; it wasn't even very loud.  But suddenly the pool was fountaining up into the air without the aid of hydraulics or pipes, raining down in a respectable drench all over the paving and benches.  The two boys screeched and took off at a dead run, followed by their alarmed parents as Kaito laughed softly.  Water fell everywhere like glittering beads; it was as if the sky had opened up into their own personal sunshower, pattering down and dripping off Aoko's umbrella in a short-lived storm.

"Bingo!" he cheered.  With an air of satisfaction the young magician took the umbrella from Aoko's nerveless hand and shook it out before clicking it closed and offering it politely back.  She took it slowly, her eyes rather huge.  "What's wrong?"

"C-could you sort of WARN me when you're about to blow things up?  Booms make me nervous….."

"Oh.  Sure!"  He skipped ahead and was up the now-dripping wall by the time she reached it, offering a hand down.  "Shall we?  Don't want to miss the rest of the class….."

Once back up among the leafy cover of the trees that surrounded the wall, Aoko expected Kaito to take her onto his shoulders again; instead, he suddenly used a handy branch to swing himself around *behind* her.  She glanced back in inquiry.  "?"

His eyes were warm and blue, almost as warm as the little smile that lit his thin face from within.  "Let's try something a little different this time; don't worry, I'll catch you if you start to fall."  Before she could protest he suddenly had his arms firmly around her waist from behind, pressing close enough that she caught her breath a little.  "Now, hold your arms out to either side—y'know, like you were walking a tightrope.  I'm gonna use my weight to balance us, and _you're_ gonna steer.  It's okay—you can do this, Aoko; half the reason a person falls is because they're afraid they will…."

She hesitated, biting her lip.  "Are you SURE this'll work?  If we fall—it gets sort of high—"

"We won't.  Trust me, please, Aoko?"  His voice was just as teasing as it had ever been, but somehow…  Slowly her tension leaked out and she took the first step.

It was that tone of voice that made her take the next step, and the next, and the one after that; Kaito's voice and the warm breath stirring the hair on top of her head from behind.  And maybe it was the pair of arms that had settled so securely around her, keeping her safe and suddenly far less frightened of the drop than she had been that made her take one more and one more, a rhythm of cautious nervousness that metamorphed amazingly quickly into almost-confidence as she realized that they were NOT falling, not even close to falling.  "I… *can* do it.  We're….."

She felt Kaito smile against her hair.  "Just think of it as taking a walk with me… like on a date, hm?"  Laughter stirred beneath his breath.

All around them the wind sighed gently through the branches, not strong enough to make her waver but enough there to be felt, sort as a caress against her skin.  Step, step, step; left foot, raise it up and set it down, right foot--  It was easy, as easy as walking on a sidewalk as wide as she was tall.  And every time Aoko felt gravity's clutching hands pulling her to right or left, the warm presence behind her tightened gentle arms and shifted her against it like a kite on a string, like a plate being balanced on a juggler's fingertip.

Balanced…  _*She*_ was being balanced, _*she*_ was being juggled; and somehow, despite the fact that somewhere in the pit of her stomach a little voice kept shrieking that she was going to FALL, DAMMIT!... Aoko had never felt so safe in her life.

_*…balanced, like him…..*_

And he kept hold of her, stepping with her, marking time along the top of the narrow wall.  Even when they broke free of the trees and were moving in broad, empty air she kept on going—it would have been harder to stop.  Every footstep made her fear of falling slip farther away—suspended, as it were, in Kaito's arms.

It took forever to reach the other side; but when it was over, it hadn't taken long enough, not really.  Regretfully Aoko stepped from the narrower line of brickwork onto the wider wall, arms still outstretched; Kaito's arms loosened, but when she paused she realized that he hadn't quite let go of her yet. 

Come to think of it, she hadn't quite pulled away either, had she?

For a few minutes they stood there, the Inspector's daughter wrapped comfortably in the Phantom Thief's embrace, neither saying a word.  Aoko leaned her head back against the strong chest behind her; it was warm, smelling faintly of sweat under the afternoon sun, and as she turned her head to press her cheek against it she could hear his heart beating.

"A date, huh?  Well…..  You sure know how to show a girl a good time," was all she said; but as he hugged her a little tighter, it was enough for them both.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The office door shut behind them and they joined up with the tail-end of their class as the students milled in disarray around the exit-doors of the Robotics room, talking loudly about how *hungry* they all were.  Hakuba was, fortunately, up at the front; no doubt he had been eyebrow-deep in technology during the whole show, as fascinated by gadgetry as he was…  He was always looking for some way to apply scientific tinkerings to his detective work one way or another.  The blonde shot a suspicious glance back at Kaito as his classmate meandered along beside Aoko; but the young magician merely blinked benignly back, a little smile on his lips.  Hakuba's gaze flickered towards the Inspector's daughter (who seemed to be wearing much the same smile for some reason) and he _*twitched.*_

"Aoko-kun?  _Pssssst__!_  Aoko-kun!!"  

That was Keiko again; Aoko fought off a lingering desire to hide behind Kaito.  "What?"

The blonde leaned close as they followed the rest of the class, a chaperone or two training behind to pick up stragglers.  "Where WERE you?  And…… uh…….. Aoko?  *WHY* do you have leaves in your hair?"  Her eyes took on a fascinated gleam.  "Well….???  Aokoooooooo??"

"Um-----"  Aoko edged slightly away and began to sweat…..

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The afternoon wound down as one would expect, with increasingly-bored students being herded by increasingly-tired chaperones through the rest of the museum.  They were scheduled to stay at one of the local hotels that catered to groups for the evening, and the next day would take them to a Job Fair at the University only a few kilometers from the museum.

"Boooooooring, to quote 'Yumi-chan," muttered Kaito, not bothering to suppress a yawn.  "Job fairs—like a future World-Famous Magician beloved by audiences everywhere _needs_ job fairs?"  He scowled at the trip schedule that all the students had been given.  "Hell, I'd get more useful tips out of them letting us loose in another museum or something.  Job fairs… bleagh."

Lunch had been in the small and highly overpriced museum café, definitely not one of the highlights of the trip; the majority of the students were feeling bored and slightly disgruntled and the chaperones all had that look of _'WHY did we volunteer for this again when we could be at home regrouting the bathroom instead?'_   They had turned their charges loose on the place after lunch, with the request that no-one electrocute/dismember/decapitate anybody else before they regrouped in the evening; Kaito had immediately opened his mouth to try and take advantage of the request's wording, only to be forestalled by a quick elbow in the ribs from Aoko.  He had subsided with an injured expression.

So now the two of them were lounging around one of the electrical exhibits.  That is, _*KAITO*_ was lounging and Aoko was standing nervously around, waiting for the fireworks to start as soon as a museum guard came in sight.  The exhibit was one of the more peculiar ones, devoted to law-enforcement; it had a fair amount of interesting crime-lab equipment, but it was the historical section that caught the eye… and especially the chair that the young magician was currently sprawled across.  He fingered one of the straps, tilting his head back and peering up at the head-clamps and wiring above.  "Whatcha think, Aoko?  Would it fit my décor?  I could put it in the living room, next to the couch for those really _special_ guests….."

The Inspector's daughter gave a shudder; she drank the last of her soda and stirred the ice with her straw as she shook her head.  "Kaito, would you get OUT of that thing?  It's got to be bad luck to sit in an electric chair, even an antique one—"

"I don't know," said a cool, somewhat amused voice behind her back; she jumped slightly as Hakuba Saguru walked up, eyebrows on the rise ("… and speaking of 'special guests,'" muttered Kaito).  "He looks almost *natural* there.  Though I suppose some people might consider it to be tempting fate—"

His dark-haired classmate grinned.  "Naaahhh….  It's not hooked up right now; believe me, I checked."

"Mmm.  Pity."

Kaito looked hurt; he swung one leg over the electric chair's arm and leaned back.  "C'mon, Hakuba-kun, you wouldn't _reeeeeally_ want to see me dead, would you?  I mean, if I bit it, there wouldn't be anybody around to make your life interesting—no more fun trading insults, no more little pranks…  Just think how boring things'd be."  He reached up and flicked a finger against an electrical contact:  _**clink!**_  Aoko shuddered again.

"Here, let me plug that in for you—"

The magician stared, his own eyebrows going up; even the girl beside him looked a little taken aback.  "Did you just make a _*joke?*_"

Hakuba shrugged, one corner of his mouth twitching just a bit.  "I actually do on occasion, you know—it's just that it takes someone with more than half a share of wits to recognize them."  He surveyed his classmate's current position, arms crossed.   "Don't you think you should get out of that before someone comes along and tightens the straps?"

A lazy shrug.  "Doesn't matter; I could have 'em open in a flash, and I could be out of 'em *without* their being opened even faster."  He slid the other leg over the arm, leaning backwards against the other side with his hands clasped behind his head.  Aoko rolled her eyes, wondering silently whether the ghosts of all those who had died in the chair were either cheering her friend on or recoiling in horror.  "Besides, what else is there to do?  We've been through all the exhibits, we aren't allowed to go out of the museum until the teachers are satisfied that we've stuffed our brains with the Wonders of Industrial Technology, the cafeteria basically sucks, and YOU told all the museum guards to keep an eye on me in case I stole anything."  Kaito made a face at the detective.  "Like I _would_ steal anything in this dump….. although I admit I wouldn't mind taking home that Van de Graff thingie—I could have some fun with *that* little gizmo.  It had possibilities."  The static electricity generator had spawned any number of gleefully horrific ideas for practical jokes in Kaito's mind; Aoko and his other classmates had eyed him askance and vowed not to shake hands with the young magician any time in the near future.

The Inspector's daughter's feet were hurting; there were way too few benches in the building and they had been there way too long.  She hesitated, looked around for signs of the afore-mentioned museum guards—and then gave in to temptation and stepped over the velvet rope marking off the exhibit to sit down on the wooden platform beside the base of Kaito's 'throne.'  He reached down, threading his fingers gently through her hair; it felt good.  "You want to sit here?  I'll let you have the chair if you want….."

"Nooo… that's okay; this is fine.  Hakuba-kun, why don't you sit down with us?  Nobody's looking—"  She crunched a bit of ice from her soda.

The blond's face seemed to close down just a little; he stepped back from the velvet rope, regarding them with a curiously rigid expression.  "Thanks, but I think I'd… rather remain on THIS side of the law, so to speak."  

Aoko winced as the entendre struck home, but Kaito merely winked at the would-be detective.  "Suit yourself…..  Bet you get awfully tired after a while of staying all straight and narrow, though; sometimes it does a body *good* to loosen up."

"I'm sure you think so."  Hakuba leaned negligently against a corner of the wall facing the exhibit, slipping his hands into his pockets.  "You're quite good at getting people to 'loosen up' with you too, aren't you?  And there are so many things one can relax:  muscles, dignity… standards… morals….."  

His amber eyes had darkened with what almost looked like anger as they strayed briefly to Aoko's face; she fought to keep her own calm, but there was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her that she hadn't quite succeeded.  The agile fingers that were still playing with her hair went still as Kaito stiffened, although his position did not change.  "Good?  So I am—and so there are."  His voice smoothed out, deepening just a trifle the way it had the night he had explained to her about being the Kid.  "Yeah, I'm good at that—I'm good at a LOT of things, Hakuba, especially when people I care for are involved."  Aoko felt him shift behind her, sliding his legs back over to the front to drop on either side; both hands came to rest protectively on her shoulders as Kaito continued.  "But y'know, one thing I've never been particularly good at has been forgiving people who hurt my friends… so _watch_ it, okay?"  Now the cool voice held more than a hint of warning.

How had the air in the room become so tense so fast?  The Inspector's daughter reached up without thinking about it and touched one of the hands that were suddenly holding her shoulders so tightly; under her touch the fingers relaxed a little—but only a little.  She looked up; her friend's face was as composed as ever, even smiling crookedly… but Aoko couldn't quite see his eyes from her angle.  All she could tell was that they were staring straight ahead, right into Hakuba's.

Silence; it lasted a few seconds more before the blond broke it with a short laugh.  "Fine.  Do what you like; you always do anyway."  He turned away.  "But just remember that you're not omnipotent, Kuroba-kun; you can't see everything, you can't be everywhere all the time, you can't save everybody—not even yourself, if you're not careful enough.   As good as you are at… what you do… you're not perfect.  You don't know everything."  He began to walk away down the hall towards the next room.

Kaito's hands tightened again.  "Maybe not," he answered, and his voice was silky, even lower than before (though this time the coolness had a sharpness to it like the point of a knife).  "But I _*do* _know what Aoko's lip-gloss tastes like."

Hakuba stiffened as the knife struck home; so did Aoko.

And so did _Kaito_ after a moment, realizing what he had just said….. "Oh **_shit._**  Bad Kaito; I just screwed up, didn't I?"

The Inspector's daughter was on her feet in a half-second, face flaming.  She sputtered something unintelligible (it was fairly clear that it involved the thief's ancestry and probable destination after death, though) and looked as if she were about to slap him with the nearest mop-sized object.  Unfortunately for her (and fortunately for him and his continued good health) all of the exhibited items were either in cases or too big to move…..

…..so she settled for dumping the remaining ice from her soda right over Kaito's head.  He yelped as she whirled and stomped angrily out of the room; "Aoko—_dammit_, Aoko, I didn't mean—Aaaaahhhhh *SHIT!!*  STUPID Kaito, baka baka baka---"

A loitering museum guard arriving late on his rounds due to a quick cigarette out a back-door was shortly treated to the sight of a high school student strapping himself pathetically into the Law Enforcement Technology's electric chair.  He goggled at the young man, jaw dropping; the addition to the exhibit merely peered at him through shaggy bangs and requested n a sad little voice that he 'throw the switch, please…'

The guard declined.  However, as he began making gonna-call-security motions and sputters the student sighed, slipped his hands out of the straps and dejectedly slumped out of the room, muttering "Yeah, yeah, just my luck that this isn't one of the interactive exhibits, right?  Damn….."

He skulked away, head down and hands in pockets.  The guard stared after him, shaking his head.

 *******************************************************************************************************

"…I _*SAID*_ I was sorry—" was the first thing that Hattori Heiji heard when he and Kazuha went to meet their guests for the evening at the bus-loading zone of the Museum of Industrial Science.

Their field-trip had come to an end with the rest of their classmates being shuttled off back to their school while they met up with their out-of-town visitors at the complex next door to the Gardens.  Heiji had been halfway through one more argument with Kazuha, enjoying it a little more than usual (even though she was winning this time) mostly because it gave him a chance to think.  He could spout quips and rebuttals automatically—by now it was old hat and damned near instinct—and in the meantime, he could try to work out what the hell was _*wrong*_ with Kazuha lately.

_*The Aho's been awfully touchy lately; what's she on, permanent PMS?*_  He shuddered at the very idea, pushing his hat back with one hand while the other dropped to his pocket to finger the ribbon that he had shoved in there earlier.  Heiji wasn't quite sure just why he had picked it up, but he supposed he'd give it back to her later…

_*…along with the other four I've got on my dresser at home.  Damn, she's careless--*  Irritably_ he stuffed it further down, ignoring the little voice that was muttering _'yeah, but she only dropped TWO of 'em; you snatched the other two yourself'_ in the back of his head.  And anyway, what would his subconscious know about it anyway?  It ought to mind its own business and stay where it belonged, not keep sulking around and griping where he could overhear.

_*Uh-oh…..  Looks like I'm not the only one with woman problems—not that I *HAVE* woman problems, but--*  The_ couple they were approaching had 'Lover's Snit' written all over them in big, bold, neon letters.  _*Oh GREAT, just what I need…..*_  The girl (Nakamori Aoko, he remembered—one of his dad's old co-workers' kids) was pretty enough in a sort of waif-like, tangle-haired way; the guy was a wiry sort with shaggy hair that looked like it had been attacked by a weed-whacker sometime in the near past.  He was currently slouching along behind her with his hands both stuck deep in his pockets, head down and lower lip sticking out.

_*Now THERE is a guy with his ass in a sling…*  It_ was kind of funny, though, he looked sort of familiar.  _*Wonder where I've met him at?  Or seen him?  Nahh—it's almost more like he LOOKS like somebody I know, but I'll be damned if I can figure out who--*_

They walked up just as the girl concluded a low-voiced murmur of what was probably the guy's faults, from the look of things.  Apparently Kazuha didn't have a monopoly on feminine bad tempers—the Nakamori girl had that look about her, the one that indicated that she probably honed her tongue daily on the guy's poor hide.

Heiji closed his eyes briefly, then schooled his features to polite welcome.  _*Please God, DON'T let 'em keep this up all evening.  Kazuha'll pick up on it and we'll all drown in estrogen—she's bad that way, especially lately.  Please DON'T make me commit hara-kiri or something; I don't think my bokken'll be sharp enough.*_

Introductions were made; the discreet unmarked squadcar that his father had sent carried them away into Kyoto's busy streets with a lot more speed and ease than the school busses that had carried them.  Nakamori-san and Kuroba-san seemed to be pretty polite sorts, if a little preoccupied… and if you ignored the huge, invisible blinking sign hanging over the girl's head that proclaimed _"PISSED OFF!!! PISSED OFF!!!" over and over._

The Detective of the West shot a slightly pitying glance at Kuroba-san (and _DAMN_ but he looked familiar!); the poor guy was in for a bad time of it if this kept up.   The Tokyo student sat in the back seat beside Nakamori-kun, who kept her face pointedly turned away towards Kazuha as they chatted; occasionally he would glance hopefully back over at her, but there was no help to be had.

The drive wasn't too long, barely a quarter-hour's worth of travel; the family house sat on the fringes of the same side of town that housed the museum.  Heiji stayed out of the conversation for the most part, still mulling over why the _*hell*_ Kuroba looked so familiar and wondering privately if there was any way he could distract Nakamori-san into a better temper.  Dinner, maybe?  _*Just so long as Okasan isn't pulling another of her little tricks—*_

"Hmm; nice place you've got here…"  Kuroba climbed out of the car, stretching; his sharp eyes took in the Hattori family's main house, lingering on the front door.  As they walked up he admired the carvings there; "Custom artwork; nice job, too.  Custom locks as well?"

Maybe the guy was interested in architecture or something.  "Yeah; dad overhauled the whole place about a month ago and had a couple of artists do some fancy work here and there."  Heiji glanced back; the two girls were following along behind them, heads together as they talked about something that he couldn't quite overhear (which, all things considered, was probably just as well for his peace of mind.)  He stood a little closer to the Tokyo student, lowering his own voice.  "Um… good luck with your friend there—looks like you're having kinda a rough time, ne?"

The other young man sighed gloomily.  "Damn right I am.  Hell of a world, isn't it, where one stupid little tiny remark can put you lower than dirt…"

Heiji rolled his eyes; he had been in _that_ position often enough, and the worst of it was that half the time he never really knew what the @#$!! he had said wrong in the first place.  "Women… I swear their brains are on backwards."

Kuroba-san chuckled wanly.  "Better not say that around Aoko, not if you have anything breakable in the area.  She takes after her father a little too much that way."

"Bad temper?"  He had heard a bit about Nakamori Ginzo; the man supposedly caused the air to catch on fire when he really got going on a good profane streak.  "Her dad's the head of the Kaitou Kid task force, right?  Think I met him once about a year or so ago.  Kind of a grouch, bushy moustache, smokes like a chimney?"

"Yeah, that's him."  The girls had stopped to look at the koi-pond; Kuroba watched his classmate rather wistfully.  "He's not bad, really, and damned creative when he gets to swearing.  Looks like he's made a few too many enemies, though—somebody tried to take him out last week.  I guess you'd know about that since it's why we're staying with you tonight...  Thanks for the hospitality, by the way."  The teenager quirked up one mobile eyebrow, a faint grin finding its way back to that weirdly familiar face.  "You sure you don't wanna be alone with _*your*_ girl?  I don't want to cramp your style—"

Heiji hunched his shoulders, grimacing.  "Oh God, not _*you*_ too," he muttered.  "Does EVERYBODY think we ought to be falling over each other?  I mean, if it's not the guys at school warning everybody not to 'poach on my territory' it's my mom trying to shove me at somebody else…  What've I got, an expiration date on my forehead or something?  What's the rush?"

Kuroba leaned back against the door, hands clasped behind him on the knob; he seemed to be fiddling with it a bit.  "I guess it kind of depends; how long've you two known each other?"

"Since we were kids—"

"That's it, then.  All your friends have got used to thinking of you two together—and your parents are probably considering how great it'd be if you two broke out in grandkids sometime soon."  Heiji blenched at the very thought (it sounded rather a shared case of measles), causing the other to chuckle.  "I know how you feel.  I mean, me and Aoko've known each other since we were knee-high to a grasshopper as well, and…" he shuddered, "…I think her dad actually _*approves*_ of me.  And that's saying a lot for a guy who really doesn't care much for the human race in general."

"Lucky you….."  Heiji stretched a little, watching the two girls idly as Kazuha explained about the koi in the pond.  Several of the fish were nearly as old as he was.  "… especially since someday you might have him as a father-in-law.  Or am I out of line?"

"Yeeeeach…."  The other teenager made a face.  "No, you're not out of line, not really— but I refuse to speculate about the future.  Things change so fast; it's too easy to get disappointed."  And for a moment something passed across that thin, almost manically cheerful face, some shadow almost too deep to see; then it was gone and his expression turned hopeful as the two females of the party walked up.  

Clearing his throat, he made a theatrical bow.  "Ladies first?" Kuroba Kaito said, hand over his heart as he opened the door; Kazuha bestowed a smile on the Tokyo student before whispering something that contained the word 'polite' in it.  The other girl merely sniffed, marching through without a word.

Kuroba sighed then, deep and heartfelt; drooping, he followed along with a hangdog look.  Behind him Heiji paused for a bare second with one eyebrow slowly rising; _*???  Didn't I…*_

….. no, of course not; he must've forgotten to lock the door when he went out.  After all, there was no way the other boy could have opened it without a key.

Bemused, he pulled it shut behind him and shrugged the moment off for the most part.  But he shot a thoughtful glance at Kuroba as they passed into the house.

* * * * *

Dinner was….. interesting, in a horrific kind of way.

It turned out that Kuroba-san (he was Kaito-kun by the end of the meal) was a pretty accomplished magician with a famous father behind him; even Heiji had heard of the great Kuroba Toichi, considered one of the finest illusionists and performers of the century.  He had taught his son quite a bit before his death a decade before and the Tokyo teenager was quite ready and willing to exhibit his skills to any and everyone who could be connived into watching.

_*Natural performer; natural pain-in-the-butt, too, if he wasn't so likeable.*_  Heiji snorted with laughter as he watched his guest produce any number of peculiar things from his audience's pockets, plates and ears:  a small wind-up toy rabbit, a flag of Japan, origami birds whose wings flapped when you pulled their tails, several fresh roses, chocolate coins, and finally (in a Grand Finale sort of way, over the green tea ice-cream at the end of the meal) a live dove holding a peach-colored orchid in its beak.  It made a small _'meep!' _sort of sound as it appeared with a _**pon!**_ from out of nowhere in his palm, hopping lightly onto Heiji's mother's outstretched hand; Hattori Shizuka took the flower with a little smile of appreciation.  The bird fluttered back onto Kaito's shoulder with a satisfied chirp; he stroked it absentmindedly for a second, and when he brought his hand down again it had vanished.

Heiji sighed; sometimes he wished his mother wasn't so damned… poised.  You could never picture her doing anything that wasn't deliberate or controlled—even her arguments had the force and cutting edge of a katana.  She manipulated, influenced and delicately controlled the people and situations around her with all the finesse of a fine swordswoman (which, of course, was what she was).

She was ALSO usually more subtle than this, but apparently good ole Okasan had decided 'The hell with subtlety' and seized her chance to pair her son up with another good prospect, which she seemed to consider the Inspector's daughter to be.  Take their table arrangements, for instance…..

Kaito-kun was sitting over *there,* Kazuha sat right BESIDE HIM, and HEIJI sat *right next to Nakamori Aoko.*  And then of course there were all those goddamned little comments Mom had made so lightly—

_*Aaaaargh!  Let's see, there was*_

"—and your father's an old friend of the family, of course, though we've fallen a bit out of touch; we're delighted to see you after all this time, aren't we Heiji?  Heiji?  Of course you are."

_*and then there was*_

"—we should keep in touch; I'm sure Heiji would just *love* to take you to one of his school's kendo matches—he's very good, you know, though still in training--  Do you think perhaps you could spend a little time up here visiting with us, Aoko-kun?"

_*and THEN there was*_

"I'm sure we wouldn't see it as an imposition at all; no, of course not!  _**gracious smile**_  And of course, Heiji would be delighted to show you around Kyoto—the Botanical Gardens that his class toured today are lovely at this time of year; perhaps you two could go there sometime?  Such a pretty place to take a walk…"

At that point the young woman had suddenly turned a rather spectacular shade of scarlet, causing the Konsai Detective to wonder just what she found so embarrassing about gardens.  A glance at Kaito-kun's face gave back an expression of such complete, shining, angelic innocence that the detective part of Heiji was immediately suspicious.  _*Okay, so he looks familiar; did I see him at the Gardens?  His class was touring next door, so if they snuck out it's possible—*_

A sudden memory struck home, one that made him grin inside; casually he laid his spoon down among the remains of his dessert, watching the girl's face as he commented, "That'd be nice.  I've heard the bamboo grove's supposed to be worth seeing….."

_*Direct hit, BOOOM!! and down she goes!  Wow; I don't think even Kazuha blushes THAT red.  Been playing hooky and heating up the park-benches—well, I don't blame 'em.*  Heiji_ fought back a smirk, glancing again at Kaito-kun.  _*Oi, he's good—not a quiver, not even in his hands.  But he just tried to take a bite out of an empty spoon instead of one full of ice-cream; sometimes it's good to be observant.  Gonna have to tell Kudo about this later, he'll get a kick out of it.*_

He smiled in his mother's direction.  "But then, maybe Kuroba-kun'd rather take her there; whatcha think, Kaito-kun?  You interested in Flora?"  He had the satisfaction of seeing his mother's eyebrows momentarily draw together in annoyance.

"Sure; you got her phone number?"  The Tokyo student mock-ducked a glare that would've sizzled the hair from off his head had it connected; Nakamori Aoko's eyes blazed with something that fell just short of murder, and Heiji silently thanked the gods that his dad had been called into work for the evening.  Having to arrest his old friend's daughter for attempted dismemberment of her classmate/boyfriend/pet/whatever would NOT have boded well for keeping old friendships up.

He stood up from the table, offering his best 'Why Don't We Hold A Cease-Fire?' smile to the room.  "Ooookay!  Great dinner, mom—tell the cook it was fantastic, wouldya?  Kaito-kun, Aoko-kun, you want the Grand Tour?  We didn't have any time to show you around before dinner and all the new stuff's pretty cool—  Kazuha'll help me, won't you 'Zuha?"  He threw her a carefully disguised pleading look.  _*Please don't maim me, Kazuha, I need OUT.  You can tease me all you want later, okay?*_  Her annoyed expression simmered down into a slightly contrite nod of sympathy as her eyes flickered towards his mother; she was all too aware of Hattori-Okasan's tendency towards utter and complete domination of her home (in a ladylike, genteel sort of way, that is).

"Fine."  Mom gave in to his suggestion with that particular little smile of hers that promised hell to pay later.  "I'm *certain* that you can find all sorts of things to show our guests."  Her eyes gleamed briefly.  "Be sure to show them the wine-cellar, but be terribly careful escorting Aoko-kun down the stairs—they're slippery, and one of the servants mentioned that the door on the Ice Room has been sticking."  She arose with her usual grace, arranging her kimono neatly and accepting a hand up from Kuroba, who bowed with all the aplomb of a stage magician in full swing; the other male in the party rolled his eyes.  "Thank you, dear; I'm so glad that Aoko-kun has such _*polite*_ friends—or are you a relative, perhaps?  Nakamori-san didn't quite say—  No?  Ah; you seem so close that you could almost be brother and sister; how charming!  Have fun, now….. and Heiji?  Do take good care of Aoko-kun."

She smiled again.  _*'Or Else'*_ he mentally added and sighed; subtlety was just *not* her forte.  _*At least I don't have to worry about Kuroba hitting on Kazuha; he's so obviously stuck on his girl it's not funny…..*_

"Oh—and Kaito-kun?  I'm sure Kazuha-chan will be delighted to show you around as well.  I'll be retiring to my rooms now; please be sure and let Heiji know if you need anything… Good night."  To a chorus of replies she slid the door closed behind her.

_*….. but I'll be damned if I let him 'escort' Kazuha, even so.  I like the guy, but if he gives her another flower I'm gonna find an excuse to push him into the koi-pond.*_

The Hattori estate on the northern edge of Kyoto really was pretty nice, and the air outside had cooled down to the point where a light breeze was rising.  Gardens, the small practice kendo salle and the senior Hattori's collection of samurai armor and weaponry were shown and admired, as were more casual things like the game-room and Heiji's anime and manga collection.  And _THAT _ led to several hours spent watching various episodes and arguing over the characters; any thought of trips to the local mall were buried under segments of D N Angel (which Kaito-kun seemed to find terribly funny) and the Kindaichi Casefiles (which _*Heiji*_ thought hilarious).

By the time they had saturated their brains with a night's worth of anime it was fairly late; the DVD player readout was just blinking over to 11:05 p.m. as Heiji yawned and stretched for the third time in a half-hour.  Kazuha and Aoko were flipping through his collection (and giggling over his heated defense of his precious Speed Racer episodes) when Kaito-kun glanced curiously up from his perusal of the latest Naruto tankoubon.  "Your mom said something about the Ice Room; what's that?"

Heiji closed a DVD case and climbed to his feet (he had been sprawled across his favorite basket-chair with his feet up).  "Just what it sounds like—well, sort of.  C'mon, I'll show you.  You might want to see the wine cellar too." 

They trooped along behind him, down through two halls and as many stairwells towards the lowest part of the house.  "We're near the river, you know, and the original building that stood here was rebuilt in the late 1800's.  The wine-cellar and the Ice Room came from the first house—the family that held it was pretty rich and could afford to have ice shipped in from the mountains in summer for banquets and stuff; they packed it in straw and stored it down here….."  He opened a door that led to one last staircase, a much narrower one rather more like a broad-runged ladder than stairs; it led steeply downwards.

(It was notable that Kaito-kun kept close behind his classmate, sharp eyes watching to make certain that she did not stumble; Heiji smiled to himself and led the way, glancing back to make sure that Kazuha was right behind him as well.)

The stairs led onto a very small landing with a single door; at his guests' questioning looks, Heiji shrugged and jerked the metal door open with some effort to allow curls of vapor to waft out; frost glistened from the ice-laden shelves inside and the tiny room glittered coldly back at them.  "That's the Ice Room; it used to be just a stone-block storage room, but my dad had a freezer unit installed a couple of years ago."  He frowned at the door's lock, flicking one fingernail against the latch-mechanism.  "Looks like it's gotten off-kilter—there's ice in the mechanism.  I'll have to see about that later….."  He closed the door and led them past to more steps.

The air was chilly and getting chillier—and damp, too; there was a peculiar, rather green scent--  Kaito sniffed, his head coming up like a dog's.  "What _is_ that?  Smells like… water?  Mud?"

"Yeah; you've got a good nose." Heiji flicked on a light as he led the way down.  The steep steps were well-scrubbed and in good repair, if obviously very old.  "Here, this is the wine-cellar—take a look inside and you'll understand."  He opened a loosely-fitting door on the small landing at the bottom of the stairs, and a gust of cold, humid air made them all shiver.

Brickwork framed the doorway, complete with heavy antique hinges and locks that made the Tokyo boy's eyebrows quirk upwards with interest (_*Yeah, architecture freak; must be going into that when he gets in college,*_ thought Heiji, congratulating himself on his insight); racks and racks of bottles, stretching away into the distance up against irregular walls—

"A _*cave?!?__*"  Aoko_-kun moved past them, her eyes wide; she shivered and moved involuntarily closer to her classmate, who peered past her with an appreciative whistle.  "It's big…"

The Western Detective nodded; Kazuha brushed past him, slipping around one of the racks and pulling something from a shelf with a rattle of glassware.  "Right; it opens up right on the Kamo River, on a hillside about twenty feet over the water.  We've got that end locked up too, but this used to be an escape-route from the house back in feudal times."  He glanced up as something went by with an almost soundless flutter of wings; Aoko-kun jumped slightly, putting her hands up to her ears.  "Just a bat—don't worry, they don't bother us.  There's a barred window over the door down by the window where they come and go, and the mostly roost way down there anyway."

Moisture hung in droplets everywhere, glistening on the stones, wooden racks and bottles; the brilliant fluorescent lights hanging overhead glittered off a complicated wall-panel of temperature and humidity readouts, blinking with lights.  It was very, very quiet save for the occasional sound of a distant water-drip, broken after a moment by the *_*pop!**_ of a cork and slosh of liquid.  Kazuha came back towards them, carrying a small tray with glasses and a half-full bottle.  She tossed her hair back over one shoulder, and Heiji found himself watching the fall of the dark strands for a second before hurriedly wrenching his attention back to the present.

"—from a case some friends gave to Heiji's father as a present last year; he opened it the other evening for us to taste, and if we don't drink it soon it'll be wasted… it doesn't keep after the cork's removed.  Want to try some?  It's really awfully good…"  At their nods the Konsai girl set the tray on the cork-littered side-table that sat with a single chair beside the door and began pouring; the dark liquid seemed black beneath the fluorescent lights.

It was strangely surreal, standing there in the brightly-lit cavern drinking wine, listening to the occasional overhead movements of bats and watching as they winged past to disappear into the distant blackness.  Echoes of their wingbeats fluttered against the senses like moths, just barely there; but Heiji frowned a little as he saw both of his Tokyo guests wince faintly again and again.  "Something wrong?"  He finished his glass and sat it down on the tray.

Kuroba Kaito shook his head, eyes perplexed for a second before sliding back into his usual good humored look.  "Nahh… just a headache.  Thanks for the wine, but I think I'll turn in.  Aoko, you coming?"

The girl shot him a glance that was a good deal less hostile than it had been several hours before.  She had mellowed a bit in the Konsai pair's company, what with the movies and goofing around—and the glass of wine.  Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her hair falling thickly around her shoulders, and Heiji grinned to himself as he saw the other boy's shoulders relax when she nodded.

_*Good going, Kuroba; sweet-talk her into a better mood, willya?  And if you want to try the same methods you used in the bamboo grove, well—*  He_ glanced at Kazuha speculatively, trying to catch her eye (and wondering vaguely just how _*she* _would react to his own application of Kuroba's 'methods.')

"G'night, then—you two know where everything is, right?  Just knock on my door if you need anything—I'll be in the last room on the left, and 'Zuha'll be in the other guest-room next to yours, Aoko-kun.  Kazuha, hang on a sec, would you?"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Aoko!  C'mon, wait up!  Aoooookooooooooo—"

The girl paused at the first landing in front of the Ice Room, one hand on the railing.  "What?"  Her voice was still more than a little short, but sounded infinitely better to Kaito's ears than her previous Silent Treatment.

He slipped past her to the chilly metal door, eyes imploring.  "Look, I'm *SORRY,* okay?  I'm sorry I used you to score points against Hakuba—It was stupid, I *know* it was stupid, if it was any stupider I'd be signing up for a lobotomy right now.  Aoko?  Hello, hello, testing….."  Kaito looked at her mournfully down through his shaggy bangs with the same puppy-left-in-the-rain look that he had used to persuade her into choices of questionable merit since childhood.  "C'mon…..  If you don't forgive me I'll whine; and if I whine, you'll eventually lose it and try to knock me senseless with a mop or something, if you can find one in this monster of a house.   And if you knock me senseless, that mom of Heiji-kun's'll decide that you REALLY DO need to marry her son and—"

She sputtered.  "Okay, okay!!  Just… don't do that again.  It wasn't right, and it made me feel… like I had done something wrong."  The Inspector's daughter scowled at the penitent thief.  "You may steal things, but you're damned well going to stay honest _*otherwise*_ or—or I WILL knock you senseless."  She crossed her arms, jaw set.

Kaito nodded contritely; he was very good at looking apologetic (God knew that he had needed it in front of _*his*_ mom enough times) and he applied every bit of his skill to projecting "Sorry-Ass Idiot" at Aoko.  "I promise; I really do."  The apologetic look slipped after a second—he really couldn't keep it up for that long (which was why his mother had never quite bought it)—and he suddenly grinned.  "And as for Heiji's Okaa-Zilla, I've got a little idea….."

Quickly he opened the door of the Ice Room, darting in for a second and returning with a frozen chunk about a third of a meter long, wedge-shaped with one thin end and one thick end.  Aoko raised an eyebrow in inquiry, but her friend just chuckled and nipped back down the stairs as lightly as if they had been flat ground.  He listened briefly at the closed winecellar door, then slipped the narrow end of the ice-wedge beneath the edge of the heavy antique door, silently shoving it into place with a pebble or two.  Behind him Aoko opened her mouth to scold him… and then thought better of it, instead fighting back a giggle.  As her friend darted back up the stairs he wiped his hands on his jeans (they had all changed clothes before dinner).  "Brrrr… cold.  So:  whatcha think?"

Aoko crossed her arms and regarded his smug face.  "I think it's an awful trick to play on our hosts; I think Heiji-kun'll be pretty mad when he can't get the door open; and I think the idea of stranding them both together in a chilly room until that ice melts is TERRIBLY cliché.  You're trying to set them up, aren't you?"  She pushed her hair back, doing her best to gaze at him severely; her heart wasn't in it, though, and a reluctant smile kept sneaking out.

"Mmmhmmm…  so it is.  But clichés can be very, very useful at times; those two need to get a clue, and maybe this'll be a help.  'Sides, you got a better idea?  Or do you LIKE being waved in Heiji-kun's face as a prospective wife?"

The Inspector's daughter blinked.  "Clichés are good; I like clichés."  She yawned, then looked back at him with a slightly worried expression as they started back up the rest of the stairs towards the main house, dropping her voice low.  "Are you—going back out?  I mean, to take a look at—"

He nodded.  "We're pretty close, and it's a bonus that we're right by the river—it passes next to the Botanical Gardens too, remember?  And we're up a bit, too; bet I can find a nice place for a take-off and be at the Gardens in less than fifteen minutes.  Want me to bring you back some flowers?"

Aoko paused at the top of the stairs, looking perplexed.  "'Take-off'?"  Enlightment dawned.  "Oh—you're going to _*fly?*  I_ didn't know you brought your, um, stuff…"

He peered critically at the locking mechanism of the door to the kitchen area.  "Rrrgh…Awfully old-fashioned tooling… gotta do a little practice with old-style locks when we get back, you never know when you'll need it…..  'Fly'?  Yeah—brought my stealth-gear this time, the black stuff.  What, you thought I did my set-up work in my whites?  I'm SUPPOSED to be conspicuous during a heist, but not beforehand; toldja I do a lot of prep-work, didn't I?"  Kaito did something quick and intricate to the door's lock with a tiny tool that had appeared mysteriously in his hand; it _clicked_ as the mechanism loosened and withdrew the bolt.  "So I've got a neat little black hang-glider in my pack, all broken down and ready to assemble.  I can use the updrafts from the river for speed—won't take me any time to get there and back.  Jii'll be there right at midnight… about now, come to think of it… so I need to get my butt in gear and on my way."  He closed the door behind them.

"Why midnight?  I didn't hear either of you say a time—"

They made their way back up the last flight of stairs onto the hallway that took them to their rooms; the house was eerily quiet.  Yawning, Kaito paused in front of Aoko's door.  "'Why midnight'…?  Well, because he's *Jii* and midnight's dramatic; he LIKES being dramatic.  It's a Phantom Thief kind of thing—give us a choice between 11 p.m., midnight and 1 a.m. and we'll ALL pick midnight and then sulk if we don't get it.  Says a lot about our psychology, really."  

Aoko shook her head.  "I refuse to speculate on that….." she muttered.  The Inspector's daughter coughed then, bringing her voice back up.  "You're sure Heiji-kun and Kazuha-kun'll be okay down in the winecellar?  I *still* think that wasn't very nice, shutting them in there like that, even temporarily.  And it really WAS awfully cliché."

"Oh c'mon…  They'll figure out how to get it open in a little while, and by then they'll have gotten cold and snuggled together for warmth, which'll be all good; so where's the harm?  Sometimes you *need* clichés, and it's like I said:  those two need to get a clue before Hattori-okaasan drives them crazy.  Once they figure out that they need to sort of 'go public' with how they feel, she'll cool it."  He gave a shrug, then opened her door for her, blue eyes a little wistful.  "I, uh, don't suppose I can kiss you goodnight, can I, after my little goof today?  I mean… you DID forgive me…"

Aoko tossed her tangle of hair over her shoulder.  "Yes, I did…. and _No,_ you can't."  As his expression fell, she allowed a little smile to creep out onto her own face, one which had been seen many time on her father's countenance (though for wildly different reasons):  the Nakamori 'I've-Got-You-Now,-Kid' smile.  "But—"

… and she stepped in close and quick, catching his collar tightly in her fingers and kissing Kaito lightly on his nose; he went cross-eyed.

"—that doesn't mean I can't kiss *you,* now, does it?"  She drew back, as smug as he had been outside the wine-cellar.  "Goodnight, and **_be careful._  I'll see you in the morning…"  This last was in a soft whisper, as though she were afraid that the walls would hear; her eyes were still a little anxious, but Aoko was smiling as she turned away.**

"Uhuh.  G'nite."  He was still cross-eyed as the door clicked shut behind her.  Shaking his head as a wide smile bloomed across his face, he wandered down the hall towards his own room to begin his preparations.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

…and meanwhile, just around the corner at the other end of the hall…..

….. Hattori Shizuka, mother of Hattori Heiji, Detective of the West, slipped back through the short hallway leading to her and her husband's rooms.  Had her son seen her face at that moment, he would have developed palpitations of the heart; she looked like a very elegant cat, one with a canary-feather protruding from the side of its mouth.  She hadn't been able to hear more than a few words of her guests' conversation, but they had certainly been enough.

"…Trapped together down in the wine-cellar for a few hours without a coat between them; how _terribly_ cliché.  But as Kaito-kun so succinctly put it, sometimes one NEEDS clichés… and occasionally, a large, heavy club works where the subtlety of a katana will not.  This one should serve beautifully; and how _clever_ of dear Kaito-kun to protect his *own* interests so well, too.  I do so like that boy….."  She smiled serenely; it seemed that her blatant little exercises in Heiji-herding had worked—a little, at least; enough to make him nervous and possessive and to make Kazuha jealous.  

_Excellent._  It would take a considerable amount of further work to bring about a conclusion (counting one's chickens was a very vulgar habit), but eventually…..  Shizuka's fine eyes, so much like her son's, crinkled with satisfaction.  Kazuha would make SUCH a lovely bride….. perhaps a Spring wedding?  Or early summer; mustn't push things.  

Or at least, not TOO hard.  Not unless it became absolutely necessary, of course.

After all, one could not wait *forever* for grandchildren, could one?

Humming happily, she went to bed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

And a good ways down below the level of the house…..

**_**WHAM!!!**  The_** ancient door rattled, but the ice held it fast.  It was thick, the old boards sawn in a time without the benefits of electric blades and planers, but the voices and movements could be easily heard through the wood…..

"_SHIT!_  --KUROBA?  NAKAMORI-KUN??  CAN YOU HEAR US?  THE DAMNED DOOR'S STUCK!!!  SHIT!!!"  **_**WhamWham!!!**_**__

"Heiji, you're going to break your sh-shoulder if you keep doing that—"

**_**WHAM!!!**  _**"@#$%!!!"**  _**WHAMWHAM!!!**_**

"Heiji….."

"It's goddamned COLD down here, and the goddamned DOOR won't budge, and nobody'll hear us 'til goddamned BREAKFAST—"

**_**WhamWhamWHAM!!!**  "_**AAARGH!!!"

"I *told* you you were going to h-hurt yourself, you aho—"

**"#$%@!!"**

"Oh, for---  Will you PLEASE c-come here and let me look at that?  Look at you—you've torn your stupid shirt; it's n-not as if it's not cold enough down here *already,* now you've got a b-big hole to deal with.  Bright as a brick as usual—"

"You're one to talk; *I* didn't fall in the water trying to get to the hillside exit—"

"I forgot the stupid stream was there!  Heiji, I haven't b-been back that far into the cave since we were kids!!"

"…and now you're soaking wet and shivering, and I've got a bruised shoulder and a hole in my shirt.  @#$%!!"

"…………."

"…………."

"………… Cold, huh?"

"U-uhuh….."

"………….. yeah; me too."

"………….."

"………….."

"Move o-over."

"Huh?  --oh—uh?  'Zuha, what're you—?"

"A-aho, we'll be a lot warmer if we, um, sort of… cuddle up together.  But watch your hands or I'll bite them off—"

"Aho yourself; like I'd WANT to let my hands wander—"

Shuffle, shuffle; a sigh.  "Oh, thanks SO much, Mister Detective.  You know just how to make a girl feel attractive… but then *I'm* not the daughter of some stupid Kaitou Kid Taskforce police inspector—"

"……….. don't be an idiot.  I mean, she was pretty and all that, but—"

"I _*know;*_ I saw you staring."

"Like I had any choice?  Every time I looked at anybody else, it was 'Heiji, you're being rude!  Heiji, pay attention to your guests!  Heiji, I think Aoko-kun has something she wanted to say—'  Honest to God, now I know why some people commit matricide!"

"……………."

"…………….  Much more of this, 'Zuha, and I swear I'm joining a monastery somewhere….."

"Oh, THAT'D b-be interesting—'Brother Heiji, Monk Detective of the West.'  Idiot; t-there's an easy solution, if you---"

"???  There IS??  What?"

"—never mind.  You d-don't want to hear it a-anyway….."

"You're still shivering—here—oh, QUIT being so stupid; I'm not gonna grope you or anything, but if I pull my sweatshirt over both our heads we'll be a lot warmer, and the neck's a loose one; it'll be sort of tight, but—"  Shuffle, rustle, muttered swearing noises; then another sigh.  "SHIT you're cold!!!  I didn't realize you were THIS soggy!"

"……….."

"……..never mind, I'll get used to it.  At least I won't have to tell your parents you went and caught pneumonia while you were here—now, what's that about an 'easy solution'--?"

_**sigh**  "_I SAID never m-mind.  I don't want to talk about it…..  Stupid, thickheaded—you couldn't see it if I smacked you over the *head* with it, so why should I tell you?  …..God, I'm c-cold….."

"……………………..  Uh……………….."

"I m-mean, it's not like I…. I haven't exactly……… never mind.  Just f-forget it—I'm sure your mom'll find somebody that's j-just *perfect* for you, and then you w-won't have to worry about—"

"Will you SHUT UP for half a minute, Kazuha?  You really oughta listen to yourself sometime-- you're really one to talk about people being idiots, you know?  Did it ever occur to you that maybe I——"

"—what?"

The sound of teeth gritting.  "….. that maybe I had already _thought_ of one?  It's just… I didn't think you'd be interested.  You've never seemed interested before."

Silence; water dripped in the cave beyond the door.

"I-interested…. in……  Um, Heiji?  I-if I… _*were*_ interested….. what would y-you do?"

MORE silence, bigger silence, the kind with a heartbeat.  "………. Not sure.  I never thought you'd BE interested.  You never really acted like it or anything."

"Oh."

"……………."

"…………….."  More water dripped.  Outside the door, the chunk of ice continued to melt.

"…. So…… _*Would*_ you be interested?  I mean, in… me.  I mean, as……."

A shuffling sound, as in someone getting up and walking across the floor; then there was a clink and a slosh of liquid.  "If we're going to talk about something like this, we might as well finish the wine.  Here—"

"Yeah—thanks.  You still cold?"

"….I'm still soaking wet.  What d-do *you* think?….."

"Oi, don't bite my head off, will you?  I just asked.  C'mon, back beneath my shirt—it's sorta damp now, but it still ought to help."

Damp fabric and the sounds of someone settling in a little awkwardly.  "That IS better… that stream was l-like ice!  But I can't drink my wine if I'm all wrapped up—  Heiji, what ARE you doing?!?"  This last had a slight tone of alarm to it.

"Pulling my arm out—what's it look like?  Now YOU stick your arm through the sleeve; that way you can get to *your* wineglass and I can get to mine."

"………… this REALLY looks stupid, you know.  We look like some sort of video game mutant—two heads, four legs, two arms…"

"—and one brain between us:  mine!"

"Really?  Then w-we ARE in trouble.  Fill up my glass, would you?"

"Oh, and like yours is better--?  Here…"  Liquid sloshed once more, and then again.  "Might as well fill up my own glass too, if you're gonna get tanked."

"I am NOT going to get t-tanked.  Brrrrrr….."

"Drink up—it'll help warm you more."

"YOU just want me to get drunk so you don't look like a-an idiot when you fall on your face."  A long sigh, then, and the clink of a bottle-neck against glass.  "We're almost out; *you* get the next bottle."

"… and who said that they weren't gonna get tanked?  I remember what happened when we snitched my dad's plum wine when we were eleven—and there aren't any bushes down here for you to throw up into.  If you get sick—"

"—I will NOT GET SICK—"

"—you better not do it all over me.  I'll throw you back in the water if you do—"

"—Heiji?  _*Do*_ you like me?  I mean, really?"

The cave beyond the door was suddenly full of a busy silence.  Then, very carefully:  "I… uhm, what brought THAT on?  I sort of thought you didn't want to talk about it anymore."

"….. I don't know, I just… maybe I shouldn't have any more wine.  But I *do* feel warmer….."

**sigh**  "Hang on a sec."  Rustling; the sounds of someone getting up and crossing the floor.  "How's a nice, uh… crap, I hate reading English…. How does a DeLord Armagnac 1953 sound?  Wait, Armagnac, that's—what do they call it, 'brandy,' right?  Isn't that stronger than wine?"

"H-how am _*I*_ supposed to know?  Remember, I just throw up in bushes…"

"Very funny.  Let's try it—I think it's one of my dad's favorites, he's got a lot of it back here."

**_**POP!!**_**

"!!!—Ne, Kazuha, you might not want any of this stuff—the fumes could kill bats at twenty paces….."

"It s-smells bad?  I'm freezing over h-here—"

"No, just strong.  Here, smell it your--  DAMN, 'Zuha, I didn't mean for you to try and down the bottle!!"

_**cough-cough-sputter-cough-cough!!!**_

"Lemmee taste it—"  _*__*glug-glug-glug**_  "Yeeeeeeeeeeeech, I can see why my dad keeps this stuff locked away—"  _**cough-cough**_  "But… you know, it's not _too_ awful—"

_**cough-cough--**  "_N-no—and I, I feel a LOT w-warmer—"  _**cough-cough-cough**_  "—it's just so STRONG.  Tastes nice, though.  Don't they put brandy in those keg things that those big dogs carry that dig people out of the snow?"

Rustling noises and the sounds of two people settling back for the long haul; "Big DOGS?  I know Kudo told me about one that brought chocolate to somebody…..  Pass me the bottle, will you?  Must've put my glass down somewhere…"

"Me too.  Don' drink it all—"

"—kay.  Y'know, you're right; does taste good.  Makes me warmer too, though that might be 'cause you're in my lap."  _**glug, glug, glug**_

Shyly:  "Do… d'you MIND me being in your lap?  And inside your shirt and all."

_**glug, glug**  "_Whew.  Hell no, 'Zuha, I've known you since I was six; don't mind.  'Sides, you're nice'n warm'n soft….. uh… well, you ARE.  Sorta surprised you didn't hit me, though."

"I'd have to put the bottle down."

"Oh, right."

"S-so….. so if I'm nice and warm and soft an' you don't mind me being in your lap and u-under your shirt and all, howcome you never—"

"—never--?  Never what??"

"—never treat me like I'm a girl?  I mean a woman?  You SAID you—"

_**COUGH-COUGH-COUGH!!**  _"….. I think we've *both* had too much of that stuff.  Give it here—"

"NO."

"C'mon, 'Zuha, gimmee!!"

"Uh-uh.  So TELL me, huh?  Why not?"

"Why not what?"

"Um… why not…. I….. think I forgot."

"'Zuha, you're *tanked.*  You're not gonna throw up, are you?  'Cause there's no bushes around—"

Dignity very nearly oozed through the crevices of the door.  "I. Am. NOT. Gonna. Throw. Up.  Got that, Heiji?  WillNOT throw up."

"'Kay, I believe you, I believe you!"

"…………………"

"…………………what?"

"You got your arms 'round me."

"Kazuha, I've got—I've had my arms 'round you for the past, I dunno, half-hour or whatever.  Some sort of time, anyway.  'S okay?  You didn't say not to—"

"No, no, 's fine.  Feels nice.  But….. but you said you weren't gonna let your hands wander, so I know I'm not real attractive, and I figured maybe you wouldn't WANT to hold onto me……….. Did I really just say all that out loud?  About the hands, I mean.  Did I?"

"………. Uhuh.  Errrr, Kazuha—you WANT my hands to--?  No, no, won't finish that sentence—OWW!! Why'd you hit me, aho?!?  That HURT!  An' you nearly bopped the drottle!"

Sullen silence.  Then, rather quietly:  "Don't hit me again for this, but… I, uh, DO like you, y'know; I have f'r a long time.  And… I really *do* think you're nice'n warm and all that stuff.  And pretty, 'specially when you get mad.  I've thought you were pretty ever since I figured out you were female, when we were kids."  A laugh.  "Kudo keeps teasin' me about you; I told him if he didn't shut up I'd dunk 'em head-first in a toilet."

Intrigued silence now.  "….. really?"

"Yeah."

"….. I like you too, you know."

"???"  _**glug, glug**  "_Here, have s'more.  Then howcome you yell at me so much?"

"'Cause you say stupid stuff.  And you steal my hair-ties!  Annnnd *you* yell at ME."  _**glug, glug, glug**  "_We—we're gonna have a hangover tomorrow, aren't we?  I remember—"

"'Hangover_S__'_—we each get one.  And then we'll be hung over.  And I yell at you 'cause YOU say stupid stuff too.  And you make me mad, 'cause I worry 'bout you.  And stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Yeah.  Y'know—stuff."

"I worry 'bout you too, Heiji.  'Cause you have dead bodies fall right in front of you, and people try to stab you and hit you and shoot you and—and—"

"—stuff?"

"Uh huh.  Stuff."

"Not as much as Kudo, and HE'S a—"

"Huh?  He's a what?"

"Uh.  Can't say.  Promised.  …..Don't *look* at me like that, 'Zuha, I *promised.*  'Sides, Ran wants to talk t'you; told me so herself.  SHE can explain.  'Sides, I think she'd like to."

"???  Espl—esapla—I mean, explain WHAT??"

"Aho, if I *told* you, she wouldn't haveta explain, would she?"  Small sloshing sounds.  "Huh; we drank almost the whole bottle.  We were real pigs, 'Zuha.  Reeeeeal pigs."

"And we're gonna be reeeeal _hurting_ pigs tomorrow when we get hungovers, too.  Hungovers?  Hungovers?  …That doesn't sound right….."

"…..we ARE tanked….."

"Mmhm."

"………………"

"………………  C'n I tell you something, Heiji?"

"'Course.  What?"

"……. I really DO like you.  Like you said 'bout me.  I mean, I think you look good, and when you're not yelling at me you're nice.  Y're even nice when you ARE yellin' at me.  And, and I like your eyes."

"You do?"

"Mmhm.  Do you really think I'm pretty?  …..and WHY do you keep stealin' my hair-ties, huh?  Huh?"

"Uh…… I can't think straight.  That brandy must've had something wrong with it, y'know?  'Cause it's making my mouth feel funny.  Ummmmm…. pretty….. yeah--!  That's' it, pretty.  Yeah, I *do,* and I like your eyes too.  I like all sorts of stuff.  You look after me and make sure I'm okay, you yell at me 'cause you, you, you CARE 'bout me, right?  And you look reeeeally good in a swimsuit—"

"Really?"

"Reeeeeeally!"

"Wow…  Heiji?  I don't think my legs are working."

"???"

"I was gonna go an' get 'nother bottle, but m'legs won't do anything.  Maybe they're asleep."

"….. maybe.  Sleep sounds good….."

"Mm.  Since we're tanked and all."

"Mmhmm.  Um, 'Zuha?"  Deep breath.  "….. Since you said you liked me and all that stuff, uh… If I tell my mom or something then she won' bring me any more women.  And then I won't h'v to join that monastery."

"That… sounds good.  I think."

"Soooo—I can tell her?"

"Tell her what?  Heiji, I'm sliding out'v your lap—hold on tighter, 'kay?"

"'Kay.  Tell her I wanna go out with you, not Nikuto-san or Sarai-kun from class, or that Aoko-kun—"

"You DO?!?"

"Stupid—haven't you been *listening?*  SAID so!"

"No you didn't, no you didn't—"

"Um.  Okay, then, I do.  Wanna go out with you, I mean.  Not like we go all th'time, but on a real date, you know…?  Like maybe to, oh--- where w'd you want to go?"

"Mmmm….. oh!  I know!  Wanna—I *want* to go to that V/K concert, y'know, the one with that guy from Malice Mizor?  THAT one!"

"But, but we were gonna go anyway—"

"I know, but this'll be a DATE.  And *that* way y'r mom'll get off your back, and… it'll be fun.  More fun than if it wasn't a date, I mean."

"Oh; okay…..  'Zuha?"

"Mmm?"

"Y'know what this's like?"  Alluvthis, I mean?  Bein' stuck in a room all wrapped up t'gether and drinking Armen—Armen—brandy?"

"What?"

"One of those stup'd anime episodes where, where the characters get stuck inna snowstorm and fall in love 'n stuff.  Like that.  You know?"

"Mmhmm………….  Heiji?  Gonna sleep now, 'kay?"

"'kay.  'Zuha?"

"Mm?"

"You comfortable?"

"Mmmhmmm….. really c'mfrt'ble………."

"……me too……….  Oyasumi, 'Zuha."

"Heiji?"

"Mmph?"

"Why… why d'you keep stealing m'hair-ties?"

"Uhh….. dunno.  Just do.  Go t'sleep, will you?"

"If you will.  Oyasumi, Heiji….."

"Mmmph……….. zzzzzzzzzzzzz…………."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Stealthy footsteps moved through the cellar as a soundless figure in black slipped past the sleeping pair near the door.  Eyes gleaming in laughter (and a fair amount of self-gratification), he surveyed the way their arms were clasped around each other; Hattori Heiji held the young woman in his lap securely, tucked beneath his creased sweatshirt like an oversized tiger-cub.  Kazuha had slid down a little, nearly nuzzling the base of his throat; the young man's chin rested on the back of her head, and they breathed together in rhythmic harmony.

_*Been having a drink or two, have they--??  Whups; gonna have Brandy Heads in the morning.  But this oughta settle any ideas Mama-san has about setting him up with Aoko.*  Kaito_ brushed through the door, which opened easily now… and *had* been quite openable for some time, in fact, had they but checked it.  The ice had barely lasted an hour, if that.

Back up the stairs, flitting like a shadow; the young thief paused very briefly to adjust the security panel he had noticed in the kitchen hallway earlier, resetting the changes he had made before heading out on his little wee-hours scouting trip.

And a profitable trip it had been, too…..  Jii had been so enthused; it was funny how the old guy dropped a couple of decades every time he let himself quit worrying and got back into action, even if it was just for a little case-the-joint session like tonight's.  But they had met up with no problem (the Gardens had been even closer than Kaito had thought) and they had gotten a really thorough look at the place's security system, schedules, guard routes, entrances and exits…..

….. and sparklies……

Oh yeah; tonight had been _*good.*  His_ head was buzzing with plans and possibilities and waaaay too much excitement to allow sleep, even if he had wanted to.  Nearly bouncing despite the tiring flight back (the wind had been against him, and Kaito had had to dip and dive like a—well, like a *kite*), he moved cat-foot quiet through hallways and up small landings, heading for his guestroom.  

During a brief pause to avoid a sleepy-eyed servant's trip to the bathroom he glanced down at his black-gloved hands, flexing the fingers with a slight grimace over the tear across one palm.  It wasn't that they hurt—far from it, in fact; that was the problem, if you could CALL it a problem.  He had been halfway over a security fence when he had caught his hand on a bit of protruding wire.  Not really much of a problem—Kaito had any number of small scars here and there from one heist or another, though he was careful about his hands—but you didn't want to leave blood-traces behind you at ANY time, not even a drop if you could help it.  So he had sworn briefly beneath his breath and clapped his other hand across to stop the bleeding—

--but there had *been* no bleeding, other than the brief smear from the initial moment of pain.  His skin had sealed up seamlessly beneath the faint stain, unmarred and perfect in the moonlight.  Jii had glanced up from his own work with a questioning raise of bushy eyebrows, but Kaito had just shaken his head silently.  No need to worry the old man with something that could neither be helped nor explained.

It had rattled him, though.

_*And not needing my flashlight at all was kind of freaky, too; Jii even commented on how good my night-vision had become.  Couldn't tell him that I could see everything like it was broad daylight—no, not like it was daylight; more like… through infra-red goggles, only with colors and not all muted.  Red still looked like red, green still looked like green, only… darker.*_

_*And there was the noise thing, too…..  Were Aoko and I really hearing BATS in the wine-cellar earlier?  The damned things sounded like, like….. shit; I can't think of anything close.  Guess they just sounded the way bats sound, if you've got ears that can hear 'em... which, apparently, we now do.  Weird, weird, weird.* _

Kaito sighed in relief as he closed his bedroom door behind him, then allowed a slow victory grin to grow across his face.  He had just done a prime heist surveillance-run from the personal home of Hattori Heiji, Detective of the West.  _*Kudo will pop a vein if I ever tell him about this.  The Shrimp'll have *steam* coming out his ears.  Oh hell, what's this 'if'?  I damn well KNOW I'm gonna tell him sooner or later…..  Just can't resist.*_

_*Of course,*_ he added to himself as he sank down onto the bed, _*if Heiji-kun wasn't hip-deep in hormones right now I might've had more than a little trouble.  He's no idiot; I just caught him at a bad time.  Whatever; 'make hay while the sun shines' and all that.  Next time I might not be so lucky.*_

_*Nice guy, though; can see why Kudo likes him.*_

Methodically he removed all traces of his activities:  the black clothes went into a secret compartment in the straps of his backpack (rolled up tightly, but they made good padding for the straps, actually); the black makeup was removed via odorless lotion and sponges that disappeared into another compartment, this time in the soles of his sneakers.  As he sank down on the bed Kaito pulled out a sheaf of notes that he had taken, little bits and pieces of data that would come in handy over the next few planning sessions with Jii—

_*--and with Aoko.__  So weird to think of including her, and even weirder to know that she's willing to be part of this.  I think… Dad would be happy, so long as I keep her safe.  And I will.  I will, no matter what.*_

_*That idea of Jii's about picking a target similar to the last one, now—I have a few ideas.  Lots of good possibilities with those statues, really… but what would look tasty to the Black Org boys?  It should be green; it should be flashy and visible; it should have a mysterious past….. or……. Maybe I could GIVE it a mysterious past; if you post enough stuff in the right places online…….*_

Scowling in concentration, Kuroba Kaito went to work as the early morning hours slipped by…..

*******************************************************************************************************

"So?  What do you think?"  Folding her binoculars and slipping them into the case hanging around her neck, the green-eyed woman known in Japan as Akasuma Kari asked the man beside her.  "I was quite impressed by how he was in and out so quickly, I must admit."

Pyotr Kostya (whose name basically defeated most attempts at what he insisted calling 'Orientation') shrugged mildly, also pocketing his binoculars.  The pair were comfortably ensconced on the top of the Museum of Industrial Science's highest roof, which gave them a very good view of the Conservatory next door.  "What do I think, Kari-san?  I think that he's resourceful, intelligent, and damned full of himself.  I'm not denying the boy's skills or competence—he moves as if there's no thought in it—and I admit that I've never seen anyone bypass an alarm system so easily.  That assistant of his is rather on the interesting side, too; I hope there's no trouble to be had there.  No, I've no fault to find with our little thief's abilities—"  He stood slowly, stretching a bit; they had been on the rooftop for roughly three hours.

Kari tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear; her voice was a little on the cool side as she spoke.  "And?  I hear a 'but' coming next…"

"—BUT I wonder if that cocky attitude of his will be more trouble than its worth.  Are you so sure you wish to pursue this, Kari?"

She opened the door to the stairwell; obtaining a key to the place had not been that difficult, considering her contacts.  Akasuma-san was quite well known in the museum world.  "I do; and if I do *not,* then the poor fool is lost and more than lost—he'll take far too many innocents down with him when _THEY_ come for him in earnest."  Her eyes shot green fire at his own golden-brown ones, luminous in the dark; they had not used flashlights in their watch.  "Do you want to see him disappear, Pyotr?  Do you want to think about him being dissected slowly on a cold metal table somewhere, with that young woman _and the little girl_ next?  *They* are getting desperate, and it won't be long before that forces their hand."  Kari shrugged, the movement expressive.  "You know as well as I that time will soon no longer be on their side….."

The grey-haired man sighed.  "Time; it always comes down to time.  And Kari, I remember that once you cared very little about the fate of innocents.  Once— once upon a time—"  The words were almost sad.

His companion shrugged, starting down into the blackness of the stairwell without a hesitation or a pause.  "Not to sound trite, but… that was then, this is now.  We all change, Pyotr dear, even me."

The descent in the dark was quite silent, save for their footfalls.  As the woman named Akasuma Kari reached a hand the color of pale coffee for the doorknob, Pyotr Kostya touched her lightly on the shoulder.  "Very well; I said I'd follow your lead in this—don't sulk, Kari, please?"

She smiled a little.  "I knew you'd come 'round……..  Our next move?  I'm not quite sure, to be truthful.  What I *do* know, however… is that we have little time to make it in, before _THEY_ make theirs.  And that, dear Pyotr, is something that we cannot afford."

"Ah?  What, then?"

"Hmm…. Ah; I have *just* the thing.  _Tell_ me, Pyotr…. How do you feel about kidnapping?"

*******************************************************************************************************

_TO BE CONTINUED….._

**_YSABET'S NOTES:_**_  **shudder**  I refuse to look at the word-count on this one; I already KNOW it went waaay over 20,000 words.  Sorry it took so long to get out, y'all—Real Life has been biting me in the butt lately, what with lovely things like divorces and ex-husbands and bills to deal with.  However, here it it; hope it's worth the wait.  I had originally planned on Field Trips to be only two chapters, but now I have a trilogy-chapter-set on my hands, with part 1 being Planning, part 2 being Preparation and part 3 being Execution.  Oh well, why not?_

_Many thanks to all my beta-readers, Becky, Hauntress, Icka, Loqui, Ed, Ann, Meg, Magik, and Morgan…  Hope I didn't forget anybody!  The panty-hose bit is Icka's fault, by the way….._

_Next chapter:  The Heist, finally.  And fish.  Yes, much fishiness.  Kidnappings, too—though I seriously doubt you'll be able to figure out who the target is.  Even *I'm* a little thrown by this bit, and I'm writing the damned thing!_

_One last bit of noteage:  The large chunks of this chapter that take place in the Kyoto Botanical Gardens were based primarily on the real thing—can't find my stupid link just now, but there ARE real Kyoto Botanical Gardens.  The __Museum__ of __Industrial Science__ and Technology, however, is something I made up to take the place of the university that actually runs next to it.  The Conservatory in the Gardens does exist, but not like I wrote it; my version's based on several I've been in, from __Florida__ to eastern __Britain__.  And as for the location, description and details of Heiji's family's house… heh; well, I made that up entirely.  ^_^  Not sure about just how wealthy the Hattori's are, but I always got the idea that they have Old Money behind them, so…. They have a housekeeper and servants.  If I'm wrong, so it goes….._

_8/6/03__, __6:33 p.m.__:  @__@......... I just got a call from Krista Perry at AnimeFest2003 in __Dallas__ (end of this month anime convention).  I am in major shock; my story "Omake: Grace" won Grand Prize in the 2003 Fanfic Contest.  Yeep…_


	14. Crash Course

**_Chapter 14:  Crash Course_**

A week later, back in Tokyo…..

**_*It's about @#$%!! time!*_** Inspector Nakamori Ginzo groused to himself as he settled down in the chair behind his desk with a satisfied sigh of relief.  _*How the hell do they expect me to do my job, squirreled away in a goddamned safehouse?  Idiots; let 'em try something like that again and *I'LL* show them a safehouse, halfway up their--*_

"…..errrr…. Nakamori Sir?  Your mail—"  The same newbie intern that had delivered his lunch just before his 'incarceration' _(*Akutou, that was her name, wasn't it?  Washed-out looking little thing*) skittered forward, depositing a mammoth pile of paperwork, folders, envelopes and so forth with an apologetic grimace before backing out.  Her superior's irritated growl chased her through the door, and he wondered idly just what she had done to get stuck with Nakamori-duty.  _*Must've screwed up; they always send the rookie paper-shufflers to work on my crew when they rub a boss the wrong way or lose a file.*_  Not that it mattered; so long as Akutou-san did her work, he could care less what she had done._

Things in Nakamori's world were Not Good.  The very first bit of news to greet him had been a call from Investigations downstairs:  the bodies of the dead not-cops that had perished under police fire in the Museum heist had vanished from the morgue.  How?   Nobody knew—it had been an inside job, that was certain, but that was where their knowledge stopped.  He gritted his teeth as he thumbed through the stack of mail in front of him; _somebody,_ vowed Nakamori, was going to find their ass in their hands over _that_unspeakable little screwup.

_*Rrrrgh.  The one good thing about that damned safehouse was that I didn't have to deal with paperwork…  Lessee…..  Memo, memo, interoffice blah blah blah, retirement party for— so old Hashimoto's finally heading out to pasture, is he?... memo, memo, goddam memo, don't they ever WORK down in Records?..... invitation to—Hell, I don't have time to go to any idiot Policeman's Ball!—memo, quarterly report on blah, blah, blah… ANOTHER memo, think I already got this one… who the hell sent me a catalogue of Christmas cards and stationary?  Morons…  copy of __Tokyo__ Investigate Journal, good, lunchtime reading…. Mrm… what's this?*_

"'This' was a small, ivory-colored envelope, neatly addressed to himself in elegant raised type; the Inspector frowned, turning it over in his hands.  _*__Kyoto__ postmark from a couple of days ago; it's too small to hold a letterbomb, and besides it'll have been x-rayed before coming in.  The secretaries and interns all know not to open anything that looks personal--*_

And then, tilting it slightly sideways, Nakamori caught the faint sheen of a watermark in the paper….. and began to slowly come to the boil.  The watermark was quite faint, but certainly there if you looked:  A delicate caricature of a face, monocled and top-hatted, grinning like it had the punch-lines to every joke in the world memorized…

**_"@#$%&!!  %#$@&$!!!"_**

(And yet, oddly enough, he felt remarkably *relieved*…..  since what he held was proof that his own particular pet project had not gone down somewhere with a bullet through him yet.  _*Goddamn Kid's got nine lives, just like a cat, I swear it…*)_

With eager hands he ripped open the note.  Inside lay a neatly-printed rectangle, rather like a greeting card; as he read it, Inspector Nakamori Ginzo's left eyebrow began slowly to twitch…..

I HAVE WHAT YOU WANT; DO YOU WANT WHAT I HAVE?  THEN FIND ME IF YOU CAN; I'LL BE WAITING FOR YOU IN KYOTO.  I KEEP MY TREASURE CLOSE TO MY HEART; DO YOU KNOW WHERE MY HEART LIES?  REMEMBER, THOUGH:  SOME THINGS ARE ALWAYS FOUND IN _PAIRS…..  _

_Second Sight can see what lies beyond the visible;_

_When the son of the Lord of Winds chooses to pray_

_All the_ garden becomes a temple to his god.__

_And when the day balances upon a needle's point, _

_Darkness descending, light ascending,_

_Then the moon's champion shall offer a gift to Heaven_

_And all shall be well._

KAITOU KID

He blinked; _***WHAT** the fu--??*  This one was even more obscure than usual.  What did the white bastard *mean* by _'I have what you want'?_  And the next heist would be in Kyoto--?  That probably accounted for the postmark, anyway; oh, just __WONDERFUL—that meant he had to play jurisdictional games with the Kyoto police this time.  Why the hell couldn't the sonofabitch stay in Tokyo like a good little thief?  Garden?  WHAT garden?  And… who the HELL was the Lord of Winds?  Temple?  And the Moon's Champion??  _

"@#$%!!"  He was going to take up smoking again; he goddamned _deserved_ it.  The twitch speeded up.

The Inspector chewed on his lower lip, eyes fixed on the bit of paper that would consume his thoughts for however long it took until the next heist; so intent was he on his new enigma that he almost missed the second scrap of paper, the one that slid out and drifted to his desk.  _THIS_ one was not printed on cardstock; it was merely written on plain white paper, the same unidentifiable plain white paper and the same scrawl that had been used since the very first riddle had been delivered so many years before.  His forehead wrinkled as he picked it up and slowly read:

_NAKAMORI-KUN:  THE INVITATION IN THE RIDDLE IS NOT FOR YOU; SOME THINGS ARE NOT AS THEY SEEM.  IF YOU STILL WANT TO PLAY, THOUGH, BRING YOUR OWN TEAM-- AND MAKE SURE THEY'RE VERY, VERY WELL-OUTFITTED FOR A ROUGH GAME, THE KIND WITH CASUALTIES.  NOT EVERYBODY PLAYS BY THE RULES.  _

_OH, AND WATCH YOUR BACK, WILL YOU?  YOU HAVE A TARGET PAINTED ON IT JUST NOW, IN CASE YOU'VE FORGOTTEN._

_            SEE YOU THERE………. KAITOU KID_

He stared, brain buzzing; this was _*new.*   _This was the equivalent of a time-bomb with a lit and smoking fuse; this was…..

_**twitch, twitch**_

….. a _Welcome Home present,_ from the Kid to Nakamori.  And the little signature-caricature at the end wasn't grinning, not this time; instead its mouth was a serious, straight line.

And _that_ was new, too.

**"@#@$%&!!!"**

A moment later the office staff of the Kaitou Kid Taskforce was alarmed by the _WHAM! of an office door striking a wall as it was slammed open (although not unduly alarmed; with Nakamori around, their nerves had become rather deadened to explosive noises) and a shout of "YOU—AKUTOU OR WHOEVER YOU ARE—GET ME THE ACTIVE TASKFORCE PERSONNEL *IN* HERE *RIGHT NOW!!!*"_

The rest of the office-workers shot poor Akutou-kun sympathetic looks from behind their computer monitors and hunkered down; they knew what had just happened—they _*all*_ knew the signs by now: it was another Kid Notice Day.  Money changed hands behind at least three backs as wagers were paid off (the frequency of Kid notices was a big deal in the office betting pool) and everyone resolved to stay as much out of Nakamori's way as possible, just in case he finally lost it and started his own personal body-count.

The door slammed shut, rattling coffee-cups across the office; everyone except Akutou-kun (who winced) breathed a sigh of relief and began the complicated routine that a Kid Notice always initiated (one of the workers was heard to mutter something to the effect that 'at least THIS one didn't arrive by carrier pigeon.')  With a grimace poor Akutou-kun wiped away a drop of sweat and began making phone calls.

***************************************************************************************************

And a day later…..

"See, it's like this—"

Kuroba Kaito, Phantom Thief Extraordinaire and legend in his own time (or 'in his own mind', as Hakuba frequently sniped) sprawled beside the Inspector's daughter in his home's family room; he was draped at a head-downwards slant across a rather 1960's-ish beanbag chair that had seen better days, bare feet waving in the air above his crossed ankles.  Nakamori Aoko eyed him somewhat skeptically, scowling at the open newspaper lying on the floor between them.  _*She*_ was seated a little more prosaically, cross-legged on a pillow but as barefooted as he.

From his upside down vantage point the young thief traced a finger along the large picture in the front-page article:  a close-up copy of the latest Kaitou Kid heist-notice, center-stage in all its glory.  It had arrived in the mail in the most prosaic way at the newspaper office, bursting forth with a thick cloud of blue smoke and confetti upon opening; the opener, a stock-clerk of seventeen years' experience, had shrieked and flung it into the air as if it were a live snake.  The resulting panic had cleared three floors in a bomb-threat evacuation and shut down the presses for half a day until the mess was sorted out.

It was these little personal touches, commented Kaito cheerfully when he read about it, that made life so _interesting._  Aoko had whacked him on the head with a sofa-cushion for that.

But now he was explaining.  "That first bit there, the lead-in—that's to catch the Boys in Black's attention and lure them to Kyoto.  I added a bit of a hint in it too, the 'do you know where my heart lies' tagline; the target'll be to the left."

"To the left of what?"  She frowned again.  "And do you HAVE to be so—so smug in your notes?  You sound like a first-class jackass."

He looked hurt.  "I'm *supposed* to sound smug… self-confidence, expertise and being three steps ahead of everyone else is what Phantom Thievery is all about—"

"—and here I thought it was about stealing—"

"Yeah, well… there's that.  But I'm a showman; so I've gotta give everybody a good show."  He raised (lowered?) his eyebrows in his upside-down face, waggling them at her with a grin.  "Otherwise, what's the point of being a kaitou at all?  I could just dye my tux black and start burglarizing people's houses if I didn't care about my performance."

Aoko sighed a long-suffering sigh.  "Back to the notice?" she suggested, tapping the paper with a fingernail.

"Okay…  Lessee…..  I added in the 'pairs' comment to make 'em think of *TWO* items, two halves of the Pandora Gem; eyes come in pairs.  ("So do pants, glasses and handcuffs," pointed out Aoko sotto voce; he ignored her.)  So that way they'll be predisposed to look for something that matches the Akuti's Eye, which'll point them towards the target a little further."

Kaito yawned, stretching; it was late Thursday afternoon after a long day of school.  Classes had been pretty much as usual, with the exception of the gossip flying around them like flurries of birds; Hakuba had remained somewhat sullen and non-communicative, occasionally glancing at Aoko with something approaching sadness in his eyes.  She had yet to work up a way to set him up with Keiko-kun, though privately she was beginning to wonder if the trouble that would result would be worth it.

"What about the riddle?  I still can't believe you wrote the whole thing at four a.m. in the morning….."

"Five; it took me a little while to get it sounding just right, and Heiji-kun's house-staff were just getting up about the time I finished."  From his reversed point of view the civilian version of the Kaitou Kid blinked down at his handiwork.  "Okay, listen up—this is the way it works….."

"First off, I always, ALWAYS tell when I'm gonna strike; I based the date on the first god I mention in the riddle, the 'son of the Lord of Winds.'  Varya's the wind-god in Indian mythology, and Hanuman's his son.  I hunted around on some theology websites when we got back from Kyoto, and they told me that Hanuman's favorite day to pray to Rama is Tuesday… _aaaand there's some sort of East Indian temple bigwig arriving on the last Tuesday of the month to bless the statues.  Found out about it in an online Hindustani newspaper; you'd never believe what you can dig up if you really look around….."_

"So… the last Tuesday of October—that's, what, the twenty-ninth?  The heist will be then?"  Aoko's forehead wrinkled.  "The newspaper says that the note was mailed from Kyoto; how—"

Her friend grinned a cat-ate-the-canary grin.  "Easy.  I encoded it into a document on Kyoto Tourism, then emailed it to Jii back at his hotel; he did a little work with some cardstock and an engraving kit and dropped 'em in the mail.  We've pulled *that* sort of thing before, and Dad used to send notices from all OVER the place to your father; it's in his records.  He even sent one from Tibet once… dunno how he did that, though; he just gloated over it a lot in his notes."

"I think I remember him mentioning that once…..  My father's got quite a collection of stuff on you both, you know."  Aoko shifted slightly on her pillow, one finger idly playing with a hole that seemed to be trying to develop in the left knee of her jeans.   The unseasonable heat of late summer had finally broken, slanting downwards into the cool, clear evenings of an autumn with winter hard on its heels; the girl had been only too glad to change into jeans and a sweater as soon as she got home.

She took a deep swallow from the soda in her hands, droplets of condensation cool against her skin.  "So—that's the time and the place; what about your target?"  Aoko had a sudden horrible thought.  "You're NOT going to try to steal one of those statues, are you?"

Kaito made a horrible face (which looked even more peculiar upside down).  "Oh, please…..  I only did that once, and it was a complete screw-up; no thanks—I learned my lesson pretty well that time, which was 'Never steal anything bigger than your head.'"  With one of those sudden, acrobatic movements that the Inspector's daughter was beginning to get used to, the young thief flipped his body over and around, folding up gracefully beside her on the floor in an identical cross-legged position so that they were both staring down at the newspaper from the same direction.

"You see that bit there, where the 'Moon's Champion' offers a gift to heaven?  The moon-god is Chandra, the statue to the left—and that's where a person's heart lies, too:  to the left.  The statue has four arms, and there's a jewel mounted in the palm of each hand, shaped like an eye."  He smirked a little as Aoko's own eyes widened.  "The upper left hand just happens to be holding an emerald; now, if you were the Black Org guys and you found *that* little tid-bit out, what would YOU think, hm?"

"But…"  She thought for a second, biting her lip.  "You're not just leaving it at that, are you?  You've got something else planned…  Why are you looking at me like that?"

Kaito shook his head, sliding a bit sideways to prop one elbow on his knee.  "It just amazes me that you've got such a twisty mind, that's all; this is easier for you than I thought it would be.  Then again, look who your father is….."  He laughed as he avoided a not-so-mock swing at his head.  "Anyway, you're right—I *do* have something else planned."  Kaito cocked his head, tilting it to look at her almost like one of his doves would.  "Let me ask you something—"

She braced herself.

"—how are you with heights?"

"Huh?"

Kaito grinned again; his eyes danced.  "Well, y'see, I've been sort of thinking about ways that you could help with the heist and I came up with this little idea….."

***************************************************************************************************

It was a bit later now; Aoko had gone home to her own house to eat dinner with her father (tonight's meal was a quick conglomeration of leftovers and frozen porkbuns from the refrigerator; she _really needed to go grocery-shopping) for a change.  As she sat the last dish on the kitchen table, the Inspector's daughter scowled at a curl of dust beneath a counter-edge; she had been neglecting her own home way too much lately.  It had been far too easy to get caught up in __*other* affairs, things that were far more interesting than housework and schoolwork; it was time to get back on track, despite little details like impending heists and all._

Her father grunted in satisfaction as he snagged a couple of porkbuns, and she sighed.  Sometimes she thought he could (and would, rather than actually cook) willingly live on frozen dumplings, pizza and other 'microwave-nasties' as Kaito called them.  _*Kaito…*  She knew what HE was having for dinner; she had left him cheerfully singing the Nekohanten Menu Song from Ranma ½ as he sorted out packages of instant ramen noodles from his Mom's-Gone-Out-Of-Town stash in the cupboard.  While *he* at least could cook when he felt like it (fairly well, too), he obviously had other things on his mind for the evening….._

….. like the sketches, grounds-plans and guard-schedule notes spread out all over the kitchen table.  The heist was past its 'maybe' stages and into its 'gonna do it' phase; Aoko swallowed a bite that suddenly seemed to stick hard in her throat as she recalled Kaito's offhand comment that most of the guards he had run across tended not to go armed—but could she possibly pick up some more bandages for her first-aid kit, just in case?  His was all out.

_*What have I gotten myself into?*  She_ supposed that it was a measure of how deep she actually was that the thought was accompanied more by irritation and resignation than panic.  _*It's not like I was dragged into it, though—I decided to join him in this with open eyes.  Stupid to worry about it now…*  She_ nibbled on an porkbun, not really seeing the plate before her; _*There're all sorts of good reasons for my decision—my father's safety, my own well-being, and Kaito…  I don't want *him* to get hurt any more either.  Good reasons.  Or I hope they are, anyway.*_

_*What's that old saying?  'The road to Hell is paved with good intentions'?*  Aoko_ bit into a porkbun as if personally attacking it.

They had talked quietly about just those sorts of things on the trip back from Kyoto, while the train rumbled and sang its way along its tracks and their classmates alternatively dozed or chatted around them.  The job-faire had been boring for the most part; everybody was ready for home and the impending weekend a day or two away—even Hakuba had settled down, pointedly ignoring the few attempts at conversations by his classmates as he pulled out a small, portable CD player and slipped on a pair of headphones.  It had interested Kaito no end that the half-Britisher's tastes in music seemed to run towards the classical—he wondered out loud how 'Saguru-chan' would react if he slipped an old Violent Femmes CD or two in among his collection, causing his classmate's eyes to pop open in irritation (apparently the headphones didn't quite drown out _everything.)_  "What IS it with you and weird foreign '80's bands, anyway?" had asked one of their classmates; the magician's fondness for peculiar rock-groups had shown up before.

Kaito had merely grinned and answered, "I like the outfits."

_THAT figured._

The conversation between them had turned towards more private things then, things their classmates could not share in.  Things like past heists and strategies, ideas for new devices (Kaito had looked a little guilty here and the Inspector's daughter had pounced on him with all figurative fours, demanding an explanation for several things she had seen in his hidden room… particularly the gadgets marked 'Nakamori Specials.'  She had only subsided when he had explained that their purpose was to delay and diffuse, not damage.)

"The thing is," he had remarked softly during a particularly noisy card-game between several of their classmates, "your dad kinda keeps me hopping sometimes.  I know, I know, he's never managed to catch me and all that… but he adapts awfully quick to the things I throw at him."  A rueful grin flickered across Kaito's mobile face, a flash of admiration almost too quick to see.  "I'm good—and don't snarl at me, this isn't a case of me being cocky; I read the papers _too, and I *know* I could run rings around most regular thieves—anyway, I'm good, but your dad's no slouch either.  He just gets tunnel-vision sometimes….. and, Aoko?"  The boy beside her cocked one eyebrow up; "It's a funny thing… but a lot of the way I am now, the skills I've developed—some of 'em at least are due to how he challenges me, y'know?  Wonder if he's ever thought of that?"_

"I hope not—he doesn't get enough sleep as it is."  Kaito made a face at her.  In the corner of the train-car Hakuba had shifted slightly, seeming to settle into a doze, and the _clack-CLACK-buzz_ of the train all around them had rumbled on.

……. and now they were back in Tokyo, and the Inspector's daughter was feeling a wee bit nervous about knowing rather a lot more about Kaitou Kid's next heist than she should; thinking about it made her itch somewhere in her guilt genes.  And it wasn't helping that she was currently eating dinner with her father, either.  *OR* that he was going over his notes while he ate and occasionally muttering things like "goddamn hang-gliding bastard" and "put him UNDER a cell" beneath his breath now and then.

_*Sometimes I wish I was an orphan.*  Aoko_ poked at her food unenthusiastically with a chopstick and sighed.

"Dad?"

"Mm?"  Nakamori kept his eyes on his notes, busily munching as if there was no tomorrow; he turned a page.  From the kitchen Aoko could hear Spot crunching his way through his own dinner of kitty-kibble.

"What's the difference between right and wrong?"

**_That_** was enough to grab his attention.  Bushy eyebrows climbing, the Inspector shot his daughter a somewhat dubious look across his chopsticks.  "Little late to be having this conversation, isn't it?"  he suggested rather mildly (for him).  "Didn't we talk this out back when you decided to bring the Ichimoto's dog WanWan home and name it—what was it again?"

She hunched her shoulders.  "—Mimi.  Dad, I was six years old then!"  Nakamori's mouth twitched as he fought back a snort of laughter, and his daughter continued a little sullenly: "….. and besides, they weren't feeding it enough.  Anyway….."

"…you were asking about right and wrong.  What brought _this_ on?"

She shrugged, turning a bit of cabbage on her plate over and over with the point of a chopstick as if it were a life-enrichening accomplishment.  "Nothing much; I was just thinking.  You know, about… the things people do, and why they do them."  At last Aoko looked up, a lock of hair straying into her eyes; she brushed it back impatiently.  "So—what IS the difference, then?"

Her father simultaneously popped another bite into his mouth and shrugged as well.  "Depends," he said after a moment of chewing.  "D'you mean 'right and wrong' or 'legal and illegal'?"

"Ummmm….. both?"

"Mmph.  You picked a hell of a time to ask—why, you still thinking about going into police work?"  The subject had come up more than once between them, and Nakamori was naturally inclined to favor the idea.  So far, of course, as His Little Girl only planned on going into the _administrative end of the business—the last thing he wanted to see was his daughter pounding a metro beat somewhere.  Too dangerous._

His daughter shrugged again, dropping her gaze back to her plate again.

"Both….."  The Inspector scowled down at his notes and swallowed another bite.  "Illegal's easy—you do something that'll get you in for five-to-ten at the nearest prison, that's 'illegal' for you.  Doesn't mean everything illegal is _wrong,_ anymore than everything that's legal is _right_, though."

Aoko opened her mouth as though to say something, then closed it; her forehead wrinkled as her father ate the last bit of his third porkbun and continued.  "'Course, that attitude doesn't—" _*__munch* "—help much if whoever's committing the crime—" _*chew, chew*_ "—gets their ass caught.  You break a law, you—"  __*__gulp* "—take the risk of having to pay the price."  He wiped at his mouth with a napkin.  "That's all there is to it; I figured that out years ago.  Makes me feel a hell of a lot less guilty when I arrest somebody; somewhere down the line, I know, they decided to do what they did… and if they had any brains at all, they decided it was worth the risk."  Nakamori glanced at his daughter; she kept her eyes on her plate.  "That the sort of thing you wanted to know?"_

"….. I don't really… I mean, I'm not sure…" she said slowly; Aoko had stopped eating by now and was absentmindedly drawing something in her plate's smear of teriyaki-sauce with the tip of one chopstick.  "Okay; that makes sense, sort of, about things being illegal.  But you said that 'illegal' and 'wrong' aren't always the same?  That's, um, not what I thought a—"

"--a Police Inspector would say?" her father finished, one corner of his mouth crooking just a little.  "Mmrmph.  Ten years ago if you'd have asked me, you'd've gotten a different answer.  But I'm not stupid, and I'm not too old to learn, even if somebody your age probably thinks her old man's got one foot in the grave—"  He jabbed the air in Aoko's general direction with a utensil; she glanced up from her sketching a little guiltily as he went on.

"Take _*this* bastard, for instance—Kaitou Kid—" and he thumped his chopstick-clutching fist on top of the open file lying beside him; his daughter winced.  "No goddamn __QUESTION whether or not what he does is illegal or not, but the son of a bitch returns what he steals ninety-nine times out of a hundred.  That makes him either insane… or else he's playing a game by his own rules.  I decided years ago that if he's a lunatic he's still got his own personal agenda somewhere under the craziness; whatever the Kid's stealing things for, it isn't for profit—and that means it's for some other reason besides the one of trying to drive me insane.  He's not stupid, and neither am I.  So…"  The corner of his mouth turner up a little further as he addressed his daughter, who seemed to squirm just a bit.  "So….. what do you call somebody who's a nutcase but breaks the law for what he thinks is a good, valid reason?"_

Aoko twitched slightly.  "…….. what?"

Her father smiled now, grimly.  **_"'Caught'_ is what you'll call him, if I can finally get my hands on 'em.  Right or wrong, he's a thief and I'm a thief-chaser and the head of the Kaitou Kid Task Force.  Sooner or later it'll come down to that… and *then* maybe I'll find out just WHY he's been playing goddamn stupid games all these years when he could've been off making a decent living robbing banks or something.  After I lock his cell door with my own hands, of course.  And weld it shut."  He took a deep swallow from the Tsingtao beer that sat at his elbow; "That answer your question?"**

She twitched again.  "I… guess…..  Dad?"

"What?"

"What WILL you do?  If—when you catch the Kid?"  She stood up slowly, gathering the dishes from the table and carrying them towards the kitchen.  There was an interested _"Prrrtrow?" from around the level of her ankles as Spot checked in with his pet human to see if she might have any snacks to offer, but Aoko barely noticed._

Her father stared after her as if she had lost her mind.  "Throw the biggest @#$%!! party on the planet, run screaming around my office, take a vacation… what do you THINK I'll do?"

A somewhat agitated clatter came from the kitchen, accompanied by splashing.  "And after that?  You've been chasing him since before I was born; what will you do, when there's no Kaitou Kid left for you to chase?"

Nakamori was silent for a moment, his smile fading; this wasn't the first time the question had come up in his mind, but it _was_ the first time anybody else had asked it.  "I don't know; I really don't know.  Find a new target to chase, I guess."  He swallowed the last of his beer, the audible gulp putting a sort of period to the conversation.  "Any more questions?"

"…no… That's all." 

He grunted briefly as he stood up, setting the empty bottle down on the table.   Still wondering what on earth had spurred _that_ sort of conversation from his daughter, the Inspector gathered his files and headed upstairs to spend a preoccupied evening going over past riddles, methodology and his most recent pet problem.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was quiet in the kitchen, save for the splash of water and the occasional scrubbing noise.  Outside the kitchen window Aoko could see moths flitting back and forth, drawn by the illumination pouring out through the glass; one of them (larger than the others, with long, filmy antennae like feathers) sat on a pane for a moment and fanned its wings for her.  The young woman's gaze followed the movements, then slipped past the pale grey creature towards yet _*another* figure outside, silhouetted against the sky on a certain rooftop opposite._

_*Kaito.  What are you doing up there?*  Thinking_, maybe?  She could see little besides the shape of his head and shoulders (it was dark out), but on impulse Aoko turned off the water and slipped out the side door as quietly as possible, wiping her hands on her jeans.

The season really *had* turned at last; already drifts of dead leaves were whispering across the sidewalks and streets, blown by a brief wind that smelled of autumn and rain.  The Inspector's daughter shivered a little as a chill found its way beneath her collar; was it cold up where he was, on the roof?  Probably it was; lots of things felt cold tonight, and she wasn't quite sure why.  That talk she had had with her father…  Restlessly Aoko shoved the side gate open that separated their two yards; it swung with a faint whine of hinges.  _*I need to oil that; so many things I need to do around the house that I keep putting off--*_ she thought absentmindedly, slipping through.  On the rooftop overhead the silhouette turned its head.

Up the outside stairs, then, and a quick, careful hop onto the railing that divided Kaito's balcony from the main landing.  _*He's not the ONLY one who can climb,*_ thought Aoko a little smugly as she wedged one tennishoe against the rain-gutter in the familiar way from her childhood (it didn't quite fit as well now, but it still served).  For the most part it was an easy ascent, with plenty of things to step on and grab; and then she was reaching for the knotted rope that hung down along one wall and starting up the wall, just as she had after her birthday party not all that long before.

A hand stretched down and caught her wrist before she was more than halfway up.

The moon was waxing, not yet full; still hidden below the bulk of the city's buildings, its glow lit up the cloudy night sky with a diffused radiance that was both softer and sharper at the same time than the neon that tried to block it out.  Neither Kaito nor Aoko said anything much after he drew her up onto the shingles.  All around them the night grew a little later, a little colder; when the Inspector's daughter shivered once, her companion hesitated and then (a little tentatively) put an arm around her shoulder.  She said nothing; and when she leaned her head on his shoulder, the nothing she was saying made the thief smile despite the chill of the breeze.

The hour was just short of ten o'clock.  A dog barked in the distance, answered by a sort of overlapping wave of other dog-voices, growing fainter and fainter.  Head still against Kaito's warm shoulder, Aoko traced the trail of sound until it faded away, wondering a little uneasily at the number of distinct canine replies she could pick up and distinguish.  She stirred slightly, and a quiet voice asked her, "A yen for your thoughts?"

"They're not worth that much," she muttered, a little troubled.  The warm body beside her shifted, pulling something out of his pocket; he passed it over with a crackle of stiff paper.  "What's that?"

"Just read it, could you?  Out loud."

Puzzled, the girl opened the folded scrap of what looked like a newspaper article; she reluctantly scooted a little ways away, spreading out the paper in her lap_.  "'Top Government Aids Meet at __Summit__ for New Telecom Financial Strategies; Experts Predict Future Gains—'?  Kaito?  Since when are you interested in finances?"_

She could hear a trace of laughter (and something else, something not nearly so lighthearted) in his voice.  "Hey, I'm interested in _everything.  Humor me, will you?  Read."_

With a snort of exasperation and a shrug, Aoko went on.  The tiny text was a little difficult to make out but not that bad; it was the subject that bored her nearly to tears_.  "'A private investment group controlled by Hong Kong tycoon Richard Wong said on Thursday it will join Ridgewood Holdings and several other firms in investing in the landline unit of—"  Not getting the joke, the girl scowled up at the boy beside her after reading a few more lines.  "WHAT is so interesting about a bunch of corporate flunkies?  Did you trip and hit your head or something or are you just being odder than usual for fun?"___

He shook the afore-mentioned object, an odd little smile quirking his lips.  "Haven't you noticed?"

"What?"  Exasperated, she wadded up the paper into a ball and chucked it at him; Kaito caught it with absentminded grace and tucked it into a pocket.  "Noticed *what?*"

"It's _dark_ out."

The Inspector's daughter stared at the thief.  "Of COURSE it's dark out.  It's _night-time.  Now would you please tell me why you're acting like you need therapy?"_

"Aoko….."  His voice was oddly gentle.

"WHAT?"

"….. you were _reading_ that in the _dark_.  The streetlights barely reach up here at all."

"…………oh."  Suddenly there didn't seem to be much that was funny about the whole thing anymore.  "But I was just—_oh._  I was, wasn't I?"  She shivered again, and Kaito's arm came up around her once more, warm fingers resting on her shoulder.

"Bingo.  We haven't talked much about the stuff that happened since I healed up, and… not sure why, but I got thinking about it this afternoon.  So I came up here to check on a few things."  At her look of inquiry he hesitated, then shrugged.  "Things like… reading in the dark; hearing better than I've ever been able to hear—you were listening to the dogs a minute ago, weren't you?  That high-pitched yapping at the end was from four blocks away; I know that little monster, he used to chase my bicycle when I was a kid.  We shouldn't be able to hear him."  Kaito's other hand came up, unconsciously rubbing at his left collarbone and shoulder where it brushed against hers; Aoko turned her head and looked up just enough to see his face.  The dark profile (and she _*could*_ see him clearly, she really could) was very calm… if you didn't know what to look for.   

If you didn't know him well enough to look, that is.  But she _did._  "So why are you worrying about things like this now?"

A one-shouldered shrug.  "Why d'you think?  Got the heist coming up… and I don't want any surprises.  My job's spooking OTHER people, not being spooked myself."  He hesitated again, and she saw the dark brows quirk down once and then smooth back out as Kaito traded his Poker Face for an attempt at Nonchalant Face.  "But hey, y'know, so far I'm only spotting advantages here—I mean, being able to see in the dark is pretty cool, isn't it?  Useful; and the hearing's good too.  And….. well, if anybody takes another pot-shot at me, that's not as much of a worry as before either.  I checked _that_ out too."

"You did?  What did you do?"

"Nothing much—just stuck my finger with a pin.  It healed up so fast it didn't even have time to bleed.  Um, Aoko?  I'm fine, really… I mean, not that I *mind* if you want to hold hands or anything, but—"  She had caught the hand he held up and was peering at his fingers with alarm; now she dropped it and scowled, heat rising in her cheeks.  

He hurried on before she pushed him off the roof.  "—um, and anyway… I guess you'd call that an asset, wouldn't you?  Freaky as it is, being able to heal quick can't be anything but… good… Aoko?  What're you doing?"  Still scowling, the girl beside him had reached into one of her own pockets and pulled out something that shone in the faint, reflected city-glow from the clouds overhead; before he could see what it was, she had jabbed at her other hand—

"Owch!"

_"WHAT_ are you—Aoko, you idiot—"  He saw now that it was the little mop-pin; she had jabbed her index finger with the business-end.  For a bare second the tiny wound glittered with a welling droplet of blood in the dark; then even that faded into nothing but bare, blank skin.

"Well."  Kaito drew a deep breath.  "Guess that answers a few questions… whatever happened to us isn't going away.  Y'know, we need to talk to 'Yumi-chan about this—and I'll be damned if I know what to say."  The girl beside him shook her head mutely, carefully stowing away her pin.  As she leaned back against his shoulder, Aoko looked up to say something—

--and Kaito found himself staring at an impossibility.  His jaw dropped, but **_"!!!"_ was all that managed to come out of his mouth as he jerked backwards in shock.**

Aoko stared, wide-eyed.  "W-what's wrong?  Kaito?"  She reached out a hand, looking a little frightened—

--and more than a little _frightening _as well.  "A-aoko….."  Drawing a deep breath to steady himself, the magician dug again into a pocket and pulled out the small compact-mirror that she had seen on that very rooftop not so long before.  Without a word he flipped it open and held it out.

_Silvery grey eyes reflected back at Aoko, glimmering from her own face like those of a cat caught in a car's headlights._

With a sound somewhere between a squeak of terror and a yelp of disbelief, the young woman fell right over backwards; only Kaito's quick grab saved her from rolling down the shingles and dropping to the ground below.   Flat on her back, she lay staring up at the night sky and the dim face that peered down at her from above.  "Aoko?  Aoko, you okay?  I'm sorry I scared you, but you scared ME, y'know?  I, uh, I….."

She seemed to be having problems catching her breath; a wavering finger pointed up at him from below, rising until--  "AAACK!  Aoko, watch it!  You almost poked my eye out—"

Then he blinked, understanding, and turned the small mirror reluctantly towards himself; after a moment of angling it back and forth, he whistled softly.  _"DAAAaaamn_….."  _Luminous cobalt-blue_ flashed back from the mirror as Kaito tilted his head a little; the whites of his eyes ringed the brilliance as they widened.  "Holy **shit**; when did *this* happen to us?  Why didn't we notice it before?"  The young magician blinked again, then squinted as if to make the weirdness go away; his reflection refused to comply.

A cold hand clutched at his free one as Aoko pulled herself back up.  She peered around his shoulder; obligingly the thief held the mirror a little further out.  And faint as foxfire, silver and blue gazed back at themselves from the glass.  The luminescence wasn't really luminescence; it was more like the way that feline eyes threw back any iota of light, reflecting out of the dark.  "Maybe… maybe we just weren't in anyplace dark enough before this," ventured the Inspector's daughter in a slightly tremulous voice.  "Maybe our eyes were still—still *getting* like this.  Maybe we—maybe we—"

"—maybe we ought to calm down a bit before we fall off the roof?"

"Uh huh…"  There was a long, fascinated (or scared, depending on what each was willing to admit) moment of silence as they both regarded themselves and each other in the tiny mirror before Aoko spoke again; she sounded calmer this time.  "It's not so bad; unless we've got light shining right at us, you can hardly notice it."

"Mmm.  Remind me not to look straight at any policeman's flashlights the next time I'm out on a job."  The Inspector's daughter shot the thief beside her a startled look and found him meditatively staring into her eyes.  "Y'know, it's… sort of _pretty in a whacked-out way, actually.  You look like you've got eyes made out of—of mercury.  It's kind of cool-looking."_

Aoko's eyebrows shot up, but she took a second to regard her friend's new alteration as dispassionately as possible.  "I—um, yours look… nice… too….. I guess.  Sort of like—well, the only thing I can think of is the lights on top of a squad-car," she offered doubtfully; he winced and gave her a reproachful look, then turned just a little; the reflection faded out with the change of angle.  "They really are like cat's eyes.  I wonder… I wonder what Ayumi's look like?"

Silence; the rain-laden wind took her quiet words away across the rooftops, leaving a troubled stillness behind.

At last Aoko sighed, turning a little away and bringing her knees up to sit with her back against her friend's shoulder; he turned to watch her as she stared off into the distance.  Her profile gave nothing new back to him:  no eerie eyeshine, no strangeness (unless you counted how well Kaito could see her in the dark)—just the face he had known for more than half his life, as familiar as his own.  "I guess it's okay; I mean, it's just one more strange thing, isn't it?"  She hugged her knees, staring out across the rooftops.  "If my dad finds out about this, though, he's going to have a heart-attack.  And… this is the first change for us that's _visible."_

"Yeah."  Kaito sighed, closing his eyes; he rubbed at them with a gesture of somebody whose brain was approaching overload.  "We need to figure this out, Aoko.  What if things *keep* changing?  I mean, what's next?  Six fingers?  A second head?  On ME they'd just think I was pulling a joke, but on you—OW!  Brute."

She had punched him in the shoulder.  "Oh, very funny.  So what do you propose we do about it?  I don't know any doctors that specialize in—in—"  The girl gritted her teeth.  "—strange things, even if we COULD go to a doctor.  I don't think they make degrees in Professional Weirdness; you're the weirdest person I know!"

The thief beside her snorted, then began to reply; but abruptly he sat up straight, an arrested expression on his face.  "Weirdness…..  Aoko, you just gave me an idea….."  At her enquiring "???"  Kaito shook his head, shaggy dark bangs falling into his eyes.  "'The weirdest person you know—'  Heh; I know two people who can beat my record, or almost."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah; _trust me on this one…..  Look; did you have anything planned for tomorrow afternoon?  We're getting out early, remember?  It's a half-day—they're comping us for some holiday or other, I think."  At Aoko's headshake he grimaced slightly, then blew out his breath in a sigh as he ran one hand through his already-wild hair.  "Didn't want to do this at __all, but….. rrrgh.  Okay then—you want to meet me afterwards and go someplace?  There's somebody—well, a *couple* of somebodies, really—that I think you ought to meet."  He gritted his teeth a little.  "Dunno what you'll think of them, but if you can deal with _me,_ then…..  'Sides, they just might be able to help with all this; if _*anybody's*_ good at dealing with weirdness, it's those two.  You could say that they're, well, Weirdness Specialists, sort of.  And when the heist is over… maybe they can help figure it out—"_

"Who?"  She began to climb down the knotted rope, but paused to stare up at him in puzzlement.  A small, damp breeze blew tendrils of hair around her face, and she pushed them back impatiently with one hand.

He grinned a little, and if it was a bit less bright than his usual it was still Kaito's unmistakable grin; the Inspector's daughter felt a little more hopeful.  "Ohhh… just some friends of 'Yumi-chan's.  Don't worry; I think you'll like 'em.  Probably, anyway."  And then his smile faded; "We need some _answers —and maybe, just maybe, they can help us find them."  Gently and carefully Kaito leaned down, and she felt his lips brush hers for a swift, intense moment before he drew backwards and away.  "G'nite, Aoko.  See you in the morning."_

And she was left with the memory of a quick glimpse of his eyes, reflecting faint cobalt blue in the dark, to take with her into her dreams.

The first few drops of rain began to fall.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

From a darkened window across the two yards, Nakamori watched as one silhouette leaned forward towards the other, smaller one.  For a second or two they seemed to be a single shadow, their small movements indistinct against the windy sky.  _*Not like I need a spotlight and a pair of binoculars to see what's going on,*_ thought the Inspector wryly to himself as he chewed his moustache and did his best to subdue any lurking homicidal thoughts.  _*Deal with it, Ginzo; Hell, man, the question's hasn't been whether or not those two'd get together, it's been what the @#$%!!'s TAKEN 'em so long!*_

And as far as places for his daughter to pick to neck with the Kuroba boy at, a rooftop was much, much preferable to, say, the backseat of a car or a quiet park somewhere.  At least Kaito wasn't likely to try anything too drastic up there.

_*Damned little @#$%!!! BETTER not try anything up there or anywhere else.*  There_ were limits to what a parent could stand, even if he did like the boy better than most.

Another movement caught his eye; Aoko was just coming down the steps and heading for the gate now; her father drew back into the shadows of his unlit room and collapsed onto his bed with a sigh.  Kids; they grew up before you realized what was going on, and then the best you could do was keep an eye on 'em so nobody did anything _too stupid.  As far as he could tell, neither Aoko nor the Kuroba boy had let their hormones take over to that point, so… things were okay.  So far._

And they had damned better _STAY okay….. or else.  A *big* 'or else,' with teeth in it._

With a grunt and a wistful thought of simpler times when Aoko's main concern had been Saturday morning cartoons, Nakamori began getting ready for bed.  As he pulled his shirt off he glanced at the faded photo of his wife where it sat on the dresser nearby.

_*Well, Yaeko, what d'you think?  It's hard, raising a teenager…  hell; almost a NOT-teenager—she's eighteen, Yaeko, eighteen.  Our little girl.  She's had a rough time growing up without you all these years with her old grouch of a father half-here, half-gone… but she's a damned fine young woman for all that.  Reminds me of you, 'cept for the stubborn streak.  And I know where you'd say she got *that* from if you were here.*_

Nakamori was not a sentimental man; he had little time and less patience for the softer emotions.  But he had loved his wife, and even after so many years he still missed her.

He moved about the room in the dark, tossing his clothes at a chair in the way that his daughter had been trying to break him of for most of her life.  _*Wonder what you'd make of the Kuroba boy?  Not a bad kid, not really—hard to think of him as a young man, but he's got that look to him now; has had it for a while, I guess. Bit of a jackass sometimes, but…..  Maybe losing his father made him grow up a little quicker than most kids, just like Aoko.  Got a wild streak in him wide as a city block—you wouldn't believe how the two of 'em argue, which is what clued me to watch them in the first place.  Heh; just like we did…..  Don't worry, though; I'll keep my eye on him, and if he pulls anything she doesn't want I'll come down on his ass like the Wrath of God.  He won't know what hit him, but it'll have been **me.***_

_*Daughters grow up, even if we don't want 'em to.  All we can do sometimes is watch and look threatening; and I'm doing my best, Yaeko, I'm doing my best.*_

The sheets were cool and smooth; the Inspector never got quite enough sleep, hadn't for years—it just came with the job.  Exhaustion after his hard day dragged at his eyelids, but he spared one last glance at his dead wife's picture before closing his eyes.

_*Don't you worry, Yaeko; I'll watch over Aoko for both of us.  Won't let anything happen to her, I promise, no matter what.*_

And Nakamori drowsed as rain began to spatter against the window.

***************************************************************************************************

And from a block over, down the street and in an alleyway between the quiet yards…..

A clatter of quiet static in the dark, like the death-rattle of a mouse; then the connection caught, and:  "Jiro reporting in.  Subjects have separated."  In a low voice he reeled off a list of times and commentary for each, detailing the wheres and whens of his evening's work.  "Continue surveillance or--?"  The thin, lined features of the man in the dark trenchcoat were half-lit by the streetlight ten meters or so away; a momentary flash from a passing car made him glance up from the small device in one hand before turning his attention back to business.  "Hai.  So the elimination has been placed on hold until--?  …..I see."

Static again, and a chattering of orders in a staccato voice.  The man's face tightened slightly.  "Understood.  And tomorrow's surveillance?  I understand I'll be changing targets--?"

A single name was given; Jiro shrugged, eyes uncaring.  "Right; I'm familiar with the subject.  Please relay my report to Zokucho-sama; Jiro out."  With a quiet click he closed the cellphone and slipped it back into his pocket.

The alleyway was silent save for the hiss of a faint, damp breeze as it found its way through the folds of the man's trenchcoat with a sibilant whisper; he pulled the garment a little tighter around him, settling against the cold stucco wall behind him.  

The first few drops of rain hung in his thinning hair like dew on a spiderweb as he watched his target's house, silver-grey eyes cold and watchful.  It would be a long night.

***************************************************************************************************

Evening was followed by a rather cloudy morning in the usual sort of way; and when Aoko stepped out onto the sidewalk to walk to school, Kaito joined her without a word.  He was, she thought, looking a little more tired than usual, but he was whistling as he slung his backpack over one shoulder.

"So," he said without preamble, "How many times did _*you*_ get up and look in the mirror in the dark last night, hmm?"

_*Erk!*  Aoko_ blenched slightly.  "A few," she admitted in a low voice, a little embarrassed.  "You?"

"Oh, more than just a few…"  Kaito glanced sideways at her, dark blue eyes glinting (and was it her imagination, or were they a little brighter than usual?).  "Must've been up and down in front of the mirror with the lights off at _least_ a dozen times.  D'you know, if you shine a flashlight from below at just the right angle, they glow like something from a Tanemura horror film?  Really freaky effect," he mused meditatively; "Gotta remember to try it on your dad sometime."

Aoko swatted rather irately at her friend's head, failing to connect as he dodged with absentminded grace.  "Do it and I'll—"

"What?  Miss me a second time?  Oooh, the trauma!" he teased, flipping around so that he was walking backwards beside her.  From behind them came several cheers from classmates also on the way to school (Aoko and Kaito's near-daily running battles had been providing early morning entertainment for years) and a yell of _"Hey, Kuroba-kun!  Thought you were on her GOOD side now!'_  

Kaito dodged another swat—this time with a notebook—and laughed.  "This _*IS*_ her good side—" he answered back cheerfully.  With a quick duck he avoided the girl's right hook and dropped around behind her, chortling "—and so is THIS--!!"  One quick, practiced flick of a hand, and then he was dancing forward out of her reach as fast as his feet could take him down the damp sidewalk.

The Inspector's daughter felt a sudden… draft.

_*He didn't……….. He DID.*_

**"KaaaiiiIIIIITOOOOOOO!!!"******

Roaring, she charged towards the boy who had just for the umpteenth time flipped her skirt; "@#$%@#$#@$!!!"

"Hey, you leave my mother out of this—"  The magician backpedaled to keep from receiving a gutfull of notebook, springing backwards onto a yard's low brick wall.  He tightrope-walked the edge for a moment, still laughing, and then dropped down into a dead run with Aoko in hot pursuit.  Their slower classmates cheered them on, shouting and jeering as the chase hurtled schoolwards.  A low rumble of thunder from the clouds overhead followed them, fighting to keep up.

They were both out of breath by the time they slowed down (Aoko rather more than Kaito; Phantom-Thiefing was, apparently, good for a body's endurance).  Pausing to rest against the fence surrounding their school, the Inspector's daughter smoothed down her hair and glared daggers at her companion, carefully brushing droplets from the strands; it had begun to sprinkle just a little.  "I thought you weren't going to DO that anymore—"

Kaito fluttered puppydog-eyelashes in her general direction, sprawling against the bars directly beside her with a happy sigh.  "Now, why would you think that?  Just because I did _…this?"  And he leaned over swiftly and brushed her lips with his in full view of the passing students._

He tasted like rain and the breath of autumn.  He tasted like Kaito.

With a yelp, Aoko froze in place; he'd never—not in public, not at _school—_they_ hadn't—  The eyes of several nearby classmates visibly bugged out; several rather raucous cheers started, and Keiko-kun seemingly materialized out of nowhere.  "AOKO-KUN!!!  I _knew_ you guys were dating!  Why didn't you TELL me?!?"_

"Um—"  She was scarlet, she just knew it.  And all the while Kaito was still lounging beside her, a remarkably happy little grin on his face, eyes glittering with something that made the blush in her cheeks burn even harder.  _*It's just a kiss, just a little one—get over it, you idiot, what are you, fifteen?*   No good; the blush was creeping down practically to her fingertips by now._

Keiko grabbed her by a backpack-strap.  "C'mon—I want to hear ALL about it, in *detail!*  C'MON, Aoko-kun!"

….. and Kaito just _leaned_ there, arms crossed, that little grin of his heating up her face and her heart…..  "Just a minute, Keiko," the Inspector's daughter said a bit thickly.  "There's something I need to do first."  Carefully she pulled out the notebook that she had tried to hit the magician with earlier, hefting it in one hand; then she turned back towards him.

Their eyes met.  Kaito's smile widened.

**_**WHACK!!!**_******

Oh, that had felt _good._  

With a little smile of her own, Aoko replaced the notebook in her backpack and rubbed at her tingling fingers before allowing Keiko to tow her off.  "That," she called back to Kaito (who now needed the fence to hold him up somewhat), "you _deserved."___

"Yup," said the Phantom Thief, rubbing at his head, still with that little smile on his face; it made something inside Aoko dance.  "See you in class….."

"Hmph!"

She allowed Keiko-kun to drag her away as the rain began in earnest.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

And from across the school courtyard over by the main entrance, Hakuba Saguru silently watched her go.  He leaned against a brick pillar, arms crossed and features schooled to blankness—all except for his eyes and the faint shadows beneath them.  Neither of the two saw him… but if she had, Aoko might have wondered if he had been sleeping badly. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

_*Rrrgh; now who the hell thought THIS was a good idea?  They ought to have their brains squeegeed.*  It_ was Chem class, and Kaito stared down at the piece of paper that lay before him; it stared back.  _*Wooonderful; a surprise quiz.  Phantom Thieves don't have time to study for quizzes, not when they have a heist coming up… but somehow I don't think Teacher Dearest'll accept larceny as a reasonable excuse for why I get a flunking grade.*  He_ sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, then attempted to drag his mind from more appealing topics (like the 29th of October and/or Aoko, both of which were a lot more fun to think about than alkaline levels and just where phosphorous lay in the Periodic Table of Elements).

A light rain muttered against the windows outside as the sound of severe cogitation blanketed the classroom.  _*Dammit…..*  He chewed the end of his pencil, raising his head just enough to glance across the desks at Hakuba.  __*Huh; interesting.*  For once, the half-Britisher was looking a little harassed, which was NOT his usual test attitude.   __*Now, I wonder what YOU'VE been up to of nights lately, Saguru-chan?  Not studying chem, not looking like that.  Been planning a return- trip to __Kyoto__, maybe?*  _

Hakuba's left foot was twitching again, he noticed with somewhat gleeful interest.  The Would-Be Sherlock Holmes had to have seen the latest riddle in the newspapers by now; hell, he probably had half a dozen theories about it already.  _*I sure as hell hope he's not; for all I know, Heiji-kun'll be there right beside Nakamori—I mean, it IS his turf.  And of course there's the minor problem of the *other* detective in the woodwork…..*_

_*'Course, if this afternoon's little talk goes okay, he might not be a problem.  Depends.*  Kaito_ stifled a yawn and dropped his eyes back to his quiz.  Before he had turned in the night before, he had slipped out for a quick little errand.  Even now, with his mind reluctantly trudging back into the Land of Chem, the memory made him smirk quietly to himself.

_*Hey, after Conan-kun scared the crap out of me with that note on my bathroom window, it was only fair that I got him back.  But I wonder what he did when he found MY little message scrawled on his bedroom dresser mirror?  And in lipstick, no less.  It was worth the hike all the way to Kogoro-san's, that's for damn sure—but I'm a little sorry I didn't leave any other little prezzies behind.  What a waste!* _The mischievous impulse to draw a moustache and other additions onto the sleeping boy's face had been _almost impossible to resist, but he had managed it somehow._

_*They do say that Moderation's a virtue, after all, though personally I think it was more Self Preservation that stopped me.  The shrimp's EVIL when he's mad.*   _It had taken more than a little doing to make it safely into the half-pint's room, too; little Conan-kun had apparently decided that the Kogoro residence needed its security system updated since Kaito's last nocturnal visit.  _*Paranoid?  Nahhh.  Now, why would anybody ever think that?*_

Teacher Dearest was beginning to give him warning looks; with a sigh, Ekoda High's resident Master Thief stopped stalling and bent his attention back to his chemistry quiz.  _*…okay, okay……  Lessee; umm….. sulfate of iodine….. Table of Elements, where the @#$! Is potassium?….. reverse the polarity of the neutron flow?  When did we go over THAT in class?  Sheesh…..*_

_*Chemistry's a lot more fun when you're using it to concoct smokebombs; at least those have practical uses...  Well, for *me* they do—applied science at its finest.  Oh hell… when WAS Darmstadtium discovered, anyway, and what's its symbol?*_

He grumbled, scribbling an answer and then erasing it._  *'Chem'; that's 'blech' spelled backwards, right?*_   

******************************************************************************************

An hour or so later, an elderly figure at a public phone-counter in a convenience store across from the school watched idly (apparently) as Kuroba Kaito hurried out of the gate in the midst of a lemming-stream of other students.  Behind a pair of shades the watcher's eyes followed the teenager down the sidewalk, and into the receiver of the phone he muttered "Subjects have split up; 8736 is heading west along Nadeshimoto, and 8977 hasn't come out yet—wait; there she is."  His head turned slightly as he tracked the angry-looking progress of the dark-haired young woman who came stomping out of the school, a crumpled piece of paper in her hand.  "8977 is out and moving as well, south and now turning south-west; continue watching or—?" 

The "or" was remarkably nonthreatening-sounding, all things considered.

The watcher listened for a moment, his nondescript, old-man's face betraying no emotion whatsoever as he received his orders.  "Got it, Jiro-san.  I'll follow and report in at the scheduled time."  Hanging up abruptly, he shrugged once and tugged the collar of his black wool coat up around his neck as he headed for the exit, eyes never leaving his quarry's receding figure.

******************************************************************************************

"—and it only lasts somewhere around a half-hour or so, and believe me, it hurts like nothing you could ever imagine.  THAT'S why."

It was the tail-end of the last period of the day at Teitan Elementary, and the rain dripped steadily down from a sky the color of opaque, white glass as Ayumi considered this answer.  The gradeschooler had been mulling over a few questions related to Conan and Rin's peculiar situation for a day or two and had finally decided to ask:  Had Conan-kun ever been able to grow 'big' again since he had been shrunk?

It had taken a little cajoling on Rin's part, but she had been curious as well (and, just perhaps, more than a little wistful; Sonoko had stopped by on the previous evening and they had talked at length about the Suzuki girl's plans after graduation).  Now she looked sideways at the boy who sat cross-legged next to her, a slightly worried expression on her misleadingly young face.  "But you did it once, and you said that _Ai did as well, right?"_

He nodded, and Ayumi's eyes widened; even Rin had a hard time picturing their small, blonde classmate as anything other than a child.  Shinichi was one thing, but Ai…..  _"Alcohol,_ of all things…..  That's really odd.  But you're alright?  Both of you, I mean?" 

"We are now.  I wouldn't count on _staying that way if I did that sort of thing more than once or twice—a body can only take so much."  Conan winced a little, recalling the days of bone-deep aches and thin piercing pains that had riddled his body for some time after his short-lived transformation.  He had felt occasionally as if everything had *loosened* in a strange, deep way, shifted off-kilter, and it had taken a while for things to settle back into place.  It had not been a comfortable feeling, not at all.  If Ai had felt the same she had never mentioned it, but then she had also been dealing with other injuries and—well; it _was_ Ai._

For a few minutes the three sat in silence, watching the rain drip down; Ayumi was fiddling with something, stirring several objects around in the palm of one hand with the forefinger of the other (her juggling-rocks or some such, it looked like).  Rin studied her shoes, knees drawn up to her chest.  "So…" she said slowly after the rain had slackened and died a little, "it's not likely that either of us will be trying _that_ method anytime soon, I guess?"

Her companion's eyes were fixed a little bleakly on the puddle that lay just off the sidewalk; it threw back a rippling, rain-broken reflection of the cloudy sky overhead.  "Not if we're smart, we won't.  The *other* time I changed back, the 24-hour one—even that was hard on my body.  Thought my heart was going to burst for a few minutes there, and from what Ai and the Professor have worked out, that's not far from the truth."  

Now he turned his head, glancing briefly up through his bangs; there was guilt in the blue eyes behind the glasses.  "I wish I had something better to tell you," Conan—_Shinichi—_continued quietly, "but I don't.  Ai keeps trying different avenues of experimentation, but so far nothing's worked well enough to be called a real cure.  The 24-hour pill would be great if we could use it safely, but I remember what it felt like… and dying from a heart attack in return for a day and a night as your old self is no bargain.  Even if it IS tempting sometimes."

The look Rin shot him was full of a mix of worry and alarm; Ayumi's brows drew together, then smoothed.  "Then don't *ever* do it again, okay, Conan-kun?  Even if you want to be big again.  You'll grow—you won't be a kid forever!"  She nodded decisively, adding "And I remember what you looked like that time we all met you as your big self; you were awfully skinny.  When you grow up *this* time you can do a better job."  Pleased with herself, the little girl settled back against the cement with her hands clasped behind her head as Rin convulsed with giggles.

"Uhh… right."  A little nonplussed, Conan pulled off his glasses and wiped at the fog of damp on the lenses with his shirt-tail.  "I guess I can, at that—"  Rin continued giggling, and a corner of the boy's mouth quirked up in the beginnings of a smile.  "Yeah.  Thanks, Ayumi."  She grinned back at him, a faint, unnerving echo of the Kid's cocky grin showing in hers.

It had been a good day for Ayumi; the drizzle of rain had not prevented their school from holding the yearly Autumn Festival, and she had charged from one booth to another, trying everything from the Mystery String Prize Game to the Goldfish Scoop—and with a pretty good score of wins, too.  Genta and Mitsuhiko had followed at the same rate of speed, but when the three faux gradeschoolers had dragged behind a bit, they had been grabbed each by a wrist and hustled along as well.

And then there had been the Talent Show…..

A good day, even with the rain.  Behind Conan's eyes, Kudo Shinichi considered the saying _'It's never too late to have a happy childhood'_ and chuckled.

After a pause, though, he turned serious again; the Detective of the East had a question or two of his own burning figurative holes in his pocket.  "Hey, Ayumi-kun?  Have you, errrr, heard from your, ahhh, 'teacher' lately?  The one that's been teaching you juggling and… other stuff?"  Internally he winced, vowing that if 'other stuff' ever included anything even _remotely_ related to theft that he'd lend Rin his shoes and turn her loose on Kuroba.

"Oh, you mean Hei-san?  No…  Why?"

Conan gritted his teeth; Rin fought to keep her face straight, studying the clearing weather as if it were the most engrossing thing in the world.  "He left me a, well, a note of _sorts; as soon as the bell rings we should find him on the school playground."  _*And if he EVER burglarizes my room again, he's going to find out what it's like to catch a soccer ball twenty centimeters below the navel.*_  It had not improved the former Kudo Shinichi's temper or sense of paranoia to find _'YOU, ME AND THE MONKEYBARS, TOMORROW AFTER SCHOOL'_ written in lipstick on his dresser mirror that morning._

The child's eyes sparkled.  "Hei-san'll be here?  *Good!*  I can give him his present!"  She scrambled to her feet.

The bell chose that moment to ring, startling all three nearly out of their skins; as Ayumi skipped ahead back into the classroom to get her things (including Hei-san's 'present,' whatever it was), her companions trailed behind a little more slowly.  In the general rush and tumult of thundering gradeschoolers all heading towards home like adolescent lemmings, the boy glanced a little hesitantly at Rin.  "Regrets?"  His gaze dropped, and he fidgeted restlessly with the straps of his backpack.  "Silly question, I guess…"

She shook her head, not even pretending not to know what he was talking about.  "Not as many as you'd think; but I'm glad Ayumi-kun asked her questions."  The girl studied him a moment as she slid her backpack into place, head tilted a little to one side.  "Just so long as we stay safe—and stay _together—_it's alright; I can handle it.  If I were alone, though, like *you* were for that first year…"  Rin shuddered, then visibly put the thought out of her mind.  "But I'm not, and neither are you anymore.  So _stop, okay?  You've been brooding too much lately, and we have other things to worry about… like that little message on your mirror this morning."_

Conan pushed his glasses back up his nose, hefting his backpack with a rueful look.  "I still can't believe you took a PICTURE of me standing there, reading it… I must've looked like—"

"You looked like somebody had hit you from behind with a board."  The little girl smirked just a bit, tossing her hair back in a very Mouri Ran-ish gesture.  "And you should've *expected* me to take pictures of you doing something embarrassing, after you did the same thing to me the other day….."

"Oh, _come on, Ran—Rin, I mean; you would've done the same thing—" he retorted, stuffing his hands into his pockets and giving his backpack a shake to settle it into place._

She raised an eyebrow and her eyes twinkled.  "If I caught you doing what ***I*** was doing, I'd have screamed the house down."   At that they both laughed; catching Rin trying on the Rose Tiara in front of the bathroom mirror (in her flannel feety-pajamas, no less, standing on top of a stool) before it was given to her father to hand back over to the authorities had been a major Kodak Moment.  It was just Conan's good luck that he had recalled where her mother had left her camera the night before.

"I won't show anybody your pics if you don't show mine…" he offered hopefully.

"I'll *think* about it," she said loftily, stuffing a set of crayons into her backpack as Ayumi called to them impatiently from the doorway.

Out they went, down the steps and to the right towards the playground, where a distant figure lounged, arms crossed, against the smaller, older set of metal monkeybars off in the back corner.

_*There he is—'Hei-san.'  Guess I'd better get used to calling him that instead of 'Kuroba,' just in case.  Wonder what the hell he wants?  That OTHER little note of his, the one in the newspaper…..  I have to give credit where credit's due, though; it's a good riddle.  It took me almost four hours to figure the majority of it out.*_  As they stepped out beneath skies that only occasionally dripped a bit, Genta and Mitsuhiko came thudding up behind them, complaining loudly about being left behind; somewhat to Conan's surprise, the two boys were followed by Haibara Ai.

At his questioning look, the slender blonde girl shrugged slightly.  "I'd like to meet this 'Hei-san' for myself," was all she said.  Ai tended to keep her own counsel for the most part, but she had distinctly NOT been pleased to hear about Kuroba's knowledge of his and Rin's 'conditions.'

Halfway across the playground, Ayumi broke free from the rest, taking off at a dead run towards the thief and shouting enthusiastically.  "She really likes him, doesn't she?"  said Ai from behind them.

"She does… which is one of the reasons we're giving him the benefit of the doubt.  But keep your eyes open."  The cool glance and nod that Himitsu Rin received in return for her answer left no doubt that Ayumi would be well protected.  

_*And if 'Hei-san' thinks that RIN can be a terror, just wait until he's up against a paranoid Ai-kun,*_ thought Conan with a secret little smirk.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"HEEEEEEEIII-SAAAAN!!!  LOOKWHATI'VEGOT!!!  LOOKWHATI'VEGOT!!!"  The gradeschooler came galloping across the damp grass, full-tilt and bouncing all the way; she dug into her pockets as she skidded to a stop, panting.  "LOOK!!"  Waving wildly from one hand was a rather fancy (if crumpled) blue ribbon with a gold paper seal in the middle, complete with writing around the edges that was moving much too fast for her friend to see.  "Theyhada_*TalentShow*_atmyschoolAutumnFestival," (deep breath) "and Igotup and, and I didsome_cardtricks_ and madeacoincomeoutofTeacher's_EAR_!"_ (gasp_) "and_ I juggledTHREEBALLSatthesametime and onlydroppedthemONCE! and—"_

"Whoa, whoa!" the lanky young man exclaimed, holding out his hands and laughing as he stepped away from the monkeybars.  "Slow down and breathe before you pass out!  You won first place, huh?"  He picked up his backpack from where he had left it on the ground and dangled it by a strap.

A _*HUGE*_ smile, complete with near-visible sparkles and fireworks.  "BINGO!!  And—and then they had a carnival, and there were games and stuff and I won a really pretty pencil-box for me and a keychain-thingie for 'Kaasan  and a PRIZE for you--!!"  Unable to keep still, Ayumi vibrated on the balls of her feet with excitement as she swung her own backpack off and rummaged around in it.  "I hope they're okay—"

As intrigued and curious as any little kid himself, her mentor tried to peek past the pack's flap.  "'They'--?  For ME?  Cool!  Um… what'd you win?"

With a triumphant crow, the little girl pulled out a double-thick plastic bag; several somethings flashed and glittered inside, darting to and fro in agitation.  "THESE!!!  Aren't they _cuuuute__, Hei-san?!?"_

_*--huh?__  WHA--?!?  **--AAACK!***_

Two dark blue eyes grew suddenly wide as saucers.  "YEEEEEEEE!!"  The tall young man danced backwards from the proffered bag of madly-swimming goldfish with all the grace of a drunken orangutan as his backpack thudded to the ground.  Arms flailing madly, he did his best to keep from falling over his own feet, but to no avail—

_**whumph!!**_

Ayumi peered down at him, bag of fish clutched close.  "Hei-san?  Hei-san, are you okay?"  She plunked down beside him knees-first on the rain-wet grass, dropping her temporary aquarium squarely onto his chest _(**plop!**)_ as she reached out a small hand to feel his forehead.  "Do you have a fever?  Maybe you ought to go home….."

_"**whimper**"_

"What's wrong?  Hei-san--??"  His eyes were bugged out in horror, and his arms and legs sort of scrabbled at the ground as if trying to dig out from under the spot that he was currently inhabiting.  Distressed, his student hopped back to her feet and began to back away.  "I'll go get somebody—"  She turned and took off, hair flying as she charged back towards the approaching figures of Conan and the rest.

Behind her, Hei-san stared goggle-eyed at the finny menaces swimming around on his chest.  He made a frying-bacon-in-a-pan kind of movement and the bag slid to one side, allowing him to scramble to his feet as far from the little scaly horrors as was possible.  "No—'Yumi-chan, it's okay, it's okay—"  Too late; she was halfway across the playground and accelerating.

_*Ahhh SHIT; Kudo'll never, ever let me live this down--*  Gulping_, he gingerly approached the gently-moving plastic bag that had shaken him so badly.

_*What IS it about f-fish, anyway??  I can hardly stand to even LOOK at the disgusting, slimy, prehistoric little monsters…  God; and 'Yumi-chan's giving 'em to me as a present?  Now, how're you gonna get your sorry ass out of this, Thief Boy?  Lessee…  'Sorry, Ayumi, I just LOVED your prezzie, but the bag slipped when I was crossing that bridge near my school… yeah, I just happened to be holding it over the railing at the time…..'  Nahh; she wouldn't buy it.  Ummm… 'I really hate to tell you this, 'Yumi-chan, but you know those f-fish?  The bag was sitting on the counter by the toilet, and I had just flushed and it sort of fell in…'  Nahhh.*_

He hunkered down, keeping a good distance; the fish seemed to thrash around more violently at his perusal, and Hei-san shuddered.  _*C'mon, just LOOK at them, okay?  Just looking won't hurt you… much.  One, two, three, four of 'em; and she wants me to have them as a present.  Ooorgh.  She means well, but--  Jeeze; ugly little things—look at those fixed, glassy eyes and that stiff mouth.  They look like Hakuba on a bad day, when you'd swear somebody had shoved a poker somewhere uncomfortable.  Fish never smile—maybe that's why they scare the shit out of me.*_

Several sets of light footsteps heralded the presence of Ayumi and several less-welcome figures:  Conan, Rin, Genta and Mitsuhiko, followed by the slower approach of the young blonde girl they called Haibara-kun.  She walked past the others to circle him and stand beside the bag, eying it critically.  _"'Carassius auratus,' the common Fantail Goldfish," she announced calmly.  Her cool blue-grey eyes surveyed him from just above his own (Hei-san was still kneeling), and he shifted uncomfortably.  "Hardly anything to have a panic attack about…"  Ayumi moved up as well, frowning down at the bag; she stooped to pick it up, and it swayed gently on her palms as its inhabitants dove back and forth._

"Wasn't HAVING a panic attack," he retorted, rising to his feet and dusting himself off.  "It was, uh, just … um, asthma.  Right; asthma.  Pollen, y'know; it's bad out here."  Her eyebrows went up as the young magician did his best to drag his self-image from the depths of his shoes.  _*C'mon, you loser—you can lie much better than that!  What the hell's WRONG with you?  They're just a bunch of… just a bag-full of… slimy, scaly, cold, slippery wriggly clammy GAAAAHHH!!!*_

He jerked back in horror as Ayumi offered the bag once more; the thrashing orange-and-white bodies inside seemed to fling themselves towards him.  "Aaaack!  I, I mean, t-thanks, 'Yumi-chan…  Here, why don't you hold it for a while?  I mean, YOU won 'em and t-they'll *miss* you when I take them home to their nice new toilet b—I mean, fishbowl—"

She surveyed him, her eyes wide.  Then she looked at her friends:  Ai, Conan, Genta, Mitsuhiko.  They all stared solemnly back, silent (although Conan seemed to be biting his lip so hard it would almost certainly leave scars).

"…..Hei-san's _scared of fish,_ isn't he?" she ventured in tones of deep disappointment—not to Hei-san himself, who sputtered and flailed his hands as he tried to refute the accusation—but to her friends, who all nodded in unison.

"Yup."  Genta's broad face was disapproving.

"Terrified."  Mitsuhiko gave a shrug, frowning thoughtfully.

"Mmmhmmm…"  That was Rin.  "He actually _is._  I'd never have believed it."  She sounded quite cheerful.

Conan said nothing, merely nodding; his eyes had a certain… _gleam to them._

Haibara-san just smirked.  That girl was *weird.*

_*Ohboy.  I have just BURIED myself, haven't I?  The little rat'll figure some way to use this, and—*  Hei_-san swallowed hard, gathering his nerve.  What was so horrifying and sweaty-palms-producing about a bunch of _carassius_ auratus,_ anyway?  "I am NOT afraid of fish."  His voice came out in something of a squeak.  _*--and I'll be damned if I let a few slimy, cold-blooded, finny little blobs of scumbucket aquarium-trash make me look bad in front of 'Yumi-chan!!*  "_Here, lemmee have 'em…."  He forced himself to reach out.  "S-see?"  The plastic bag was cool and slick as he grasped it by the loose bit above its twist-tie; Hei-san quivered internally as the creatures within made the water slosh back and forth._

_*Please don't break the bag, please don't break the bag, please don't break the bag—*  "_There!!!  My n-new pets….."  He was still squeaking, but the magician congratulated himself that at least his hands were steady.  A magician's hands were ALWAYS steady, even in the face of fish.  "Cute.  Gaaaahhh….. Um, yeah, really cute."  He plastered the best smile he could manage on his face.  _"THANKS,_ 'Yumi-chan….. really, you *shouldn't* have….."

Rin and Conan looked at each other, identical expressions of utter skepticism on their small faces; Ayumi and the other two kids stared up at him, their own gazes barely less critical.  The little blonde Haibara-kun merely crossed her arms and smiled a cool little smile.  What was UP with that girl, anyway?  "So… what'll you name them?"  Ayumi poked at the bag with a slightly grimy fingertip, making it swing.

"Oh_JEEZE_don'tdothat!!!  Uh, I mean….. names?"  Hei-san wiped away a bead of sweat from the side of his face; he heard (and carefully ignored) a muffled snort from Conan's direction.  "Um.  Names.  How about 'War, Death, Famine and Pestilence?'"  

He was careful to use the English words, rather than their Japanese equivalents; Ayumi looked slightly puzzled, but then smiled a bit and poked the bag again.  "Okay… That one there with the spot on her head, is she Pisutorinsu or Waru?"

Hei-san fought back a severe desire to fling the bag skyward and run for it.  "Um, whatever.  Wanna carry the bag for me, 'Yumi-chan?  Please?  I *know* you'll take good care of 'em, and I can… see them plenty when I take them home.  Okay?"  Thankfully she nodded, accepting the bag back and holding it right up against her face so that she could peer at the Four Fishies of the Apocalypse more closely.

Her teacher shuddered again, this time not quite so internally.  "Right.  Yeah."  He wiped sweat from his forehead, then surreptitiously clasped his hands behind his back as he attempted to regain his composure.  _*Not that that's particularly EASY, what with Kudo and his lovely assistants smirking at me.  That Ai kid's sort of creepy for somebody who looks like a Kewpie Doll, isn't she?*  "Let's go."_

"Go?" piped up Genta, looking interested.  Ayumi peered through the plastic bag, her eyes half-hidden by fins as it swung back and forth.

"Yeah, 'go'.  You guys like arcades?"  At the resulting enthusiastic chorus, he dug into the capacious pocket of the battered jacket he was wearing and pulled out a heavy, clinking bag.  "Got a friend at the Starship Yamato Video Arcade two blocks from here," Hei-san remarked casually as they began heading towards the gate that led to the sidewalk; "He paid me off in tokens for unlocking a stuck office-door last week.  I sorta figured you guys would know what to do with them….."

He grinned.  _*Well, THAT went over well.*  The boys lit up like Christmas Trees and shot  ahead, yelling something about meeting them there; Ayumi hung back a little wistfully.  "Hei-san?  Do you want me to stay with you, or—"_

Her teacher waved her on.  "Nahh; you go ahead—here, take some to start—"  He passed over a handful of tokens.  With a shout of _"Waaait for me, WAAAIIIT!!__—" she_ charged off towards Genta and Mitsuhiko, the bag of goldfish swinging violently from her fist.

Left behind, the three gradeschoolers and the teenager watched her go.  Then Hei-san hesitated, eying the small blonde girl on the other side of Conan a little dubiously.  "Err—Ai-kun, wasn't it?  Why don't you go on ahead with 'Yumi, hm?  Got some things to talk to Conan and Rin here about, we'll just bore you and—"  He smiled down into her face, a little at a loss but doing his best to hide it; "I'll bet you play a mean game of Virtual Fighter or Dynasty Warriors, Ai-kun—want some tokens?"

She stared up blandly.  "No.  I don't play videogames."

"Uh…  You don't?"

The cool blue-grey eyes narrowed slightly; she crossed her arms and continued walking.  "No, I don't.  While I agree that they're good for hand/eye coordination, I'm not fond of either seeing guns used as toys or of mass death and destruction being presented as entertainment."

"……….."  The magician's own eyes widened.  Behind him Rin covered her mouth with one hand.

"Also," continued Ai calmly as they walked, "statistically, children who play video games are more prone to violence as they age.  The data concerning adolescent assaults is easily comparable to—"

_"Erk."  Kaito stared down at the small girl, totally nonplussed; one eyebrow went up.  "Woooooah__kay__; either they've changed the grade school curriculum a LOT since I was enrolled, or I'm missing something here."  The other eyebrow climbed to join its twin as his quick mind sorted through, passed over and discarded several options… ending with a possibility that made the thief's mobile features twitch slightly before shifting into Poker Face mode.  "I—think I see.  Considering current company, I'd say you're, um, a bit… _immature_ for your age, huh?  Had a run-in or two with some guys who think Basic Black is the ultimate fashion statement?"_

She merely shot him a sideways glare and said nothing; Conan and Rin held their peace, apparently forgotten for the moment.

"Fine, be that way.  'Course, unless you want me to treat you like a little kid all the time, you might want to toss me a clue or two."  Despite his nonchalant words, the return-glance that he gave her was anything but casual.  "Didn't know that the Short Brigade had more than two members, but hey—you learn something new every day."  Dark blue eyes flickered with both wariness and amusement, dancing somewhere between the two like an acrobat on a tightrope.  "Or a guy might _*hope* so, anyway….."_

At that Ai's lips tightened; she hated being condescended to.  "If that's supposed to inspire confidence or trust, it doesn't.  I suppose you find the circumstances of our—reduction— humorous?  And mine in particular… 'Pride goeth before a fall' and so forth?"  The girl's voice held a bitterness that belied her smooth face.

From behind, Conan opened his mouth to point out quite reasonably that he had *not* explained the exact details of their 'reduction' nor even mentioned Ai at all, but a hand on his shoulder stopped the words before they ever left his lips; Rin held one finger to her own, shaking her head.  "Shhhhh, Shinichi," she whispered as they dropped back a little.  "Let them work it out… Do you _want to be in the middle of this?  No?  __Neither do I.  So Shhhhh…"_

A few feet ahead, Kaito had slowed down; he chewed on his lip, dropping his voice a little as the small quartet threaded their way through sidewalk traffic.  "Now, wait just a minute; WHAT circumstances?  Ku—I mean, Conan-kun never really told me exactly what happened other than the obvious I-Got-Shrunk-By-The-Bad-Guys and he damn sure never said anything about you.  Give me a break, will you?  This is hard enough as it is—_you've got secrets, __he's got secrets, _I've_ got secrets, everybody and their imaginary _brother_ has secrets and I'm supposed to keep 'em straight—?"  He scratched at his hair, making it stand on end in new places.  "It's enough to fry a person's brain like an egg.  'Sides….." and he glanced back at the two trailing along unobtrusively behind with a look that showed that he had not, after all, forgotten them, "I assume that they told you about _my_ personal little identity problem as well?"_

Ai blinked.  "He didn't?  I… see.  And *what* 'identity problem'?"

Kaito also blinked.  "They DIDN'T?  **Oh.  Whoops…"**

The snort that Conan was unable to hold back made the two figures in front of them wheel around to stare in near-identical indignation; the Detective of the East took an involuntary step back.

"WHAT 'identity problem', exactly?"

"Oh, thanks, you two—"

With a hasty promise to explain all the details later to both the thief and the scientist, Conan and Rin pointed out that A) they were almost at the arcade, B) this was neither the time nor place to talk about that sort of thing, C) he hadn't ASKED for the full details, had he? and D) if he didn't lower his voice Hei-san was going to receive a pair of sleep-darts in an uncomfortable place.  "You forgot 'E'," muttered Hei-san, kicking irritably at a wadded-up fast-food wrapper on the sidewalk; it flipped through the air and landed neatly in a nearby public trashcan.

"'E'"? inquired Conan.

"Yeah, 'E'—as in 'Evasion.'  You've been doing your damndest to avoid telling me the details of being Conanified—and apparently you've been keeping Ai-chan here in the dark on a few things as well, and if I'm not mistaken she's got a stake in this too.  A *big* one, so to speak."  The blonde shot him what could only be called a dirty look as he held his palm out flat at roughly adult-female height, but the stubborn jut of her chin seemed indicated a certain level of agreement.  Hei-san fixed a sharp eye on the two other faux gradeschoolers.  "You want me to burglarize your place again?  No?  Okay, then:  _spill it._  How're we gonna work together if we—"

"NOT here!" hissed Conan, glancing around at the crowded sidewalks.  Rin looked defensive, her small body somehow managing to emit a distinct aura of _Touch Him And Die without her making any obvious moves; she hadn't looked after Conan-kun as Ran for a year for nothing.  Her companion sighed, muttering "Later, okay?  Both of you, I promise—"  _

Two stares pinned him in place.  "Right," said Hei-san; Ai merely nodded, but her eyes had gone from blue-grey to the color of steel.  

"'Burglarize'?  _'Again'?"_  It was funny how much menace could be packed into two little words.

Conan winced.  "Don't ask."

"But I *am* asking.  And I expect to hear _all about it_ later on."  The gentle little-girl voice could have been used to cut glass, and this time both Conan AND Rin winced.

******************************************************************************************

"8977 has just left a food-vendor's stall in Shuboya Square and is heading north on Teicho; continue watching?  Looks like she's meeting up with that guy, 8736—you said he passed you with a bunch of little kids?"

The response from the cellphone produced a laconic shrug from the young woman with the backpack who sat on a park-bench; she spoke while munching out of something from a fast-food bag in her lap, and crumbs dusted the rather fuzzy knit of her black sweater.  "Sounds about right.  So, follow her or not?  Stupid cow—she may be some big-shot cop's daughter, but I doubt she'd—"

_*THIS*_ time the sharp snap of an answer made her abruptly flush; stuffing the remains of her snack back into the bag, the young woman hurriedly made placating noises to the party on the other end and then stared at the phone after the connection abruptly ended.  There was real fear showing flat and plain in her oddly pale grey eyes for a second or two, and she swallowed hard before climbing hurriedly to her feet and nearly running from the park.

She headed north, walking quickly and then slowing down as her quarry came back into view.  Still brushing crumbs from her sweater, the young woman shrugged once more and then continued down the sidewalk, twenty meters or so behind.

"Stupid cow…" she muttered.

******************************************************************************************

As they entered the gaudy doorway of the Starship Yamato Video Arcade, the noise from inside was enough to momentarily drown out the rush and blare of the traffic from the street.  It was _not_, however, able to cover the outraged screech of:

 "They can _SO!!!  **HEEEEEIIII-SAN!!!**  _YOU_ TELL THEM!!!"_

"Ehh?"  Hei-san took a step back from the entrance, suddenly wary; Ayumi came storming out, face flushed in indignation, one fist still tight around her handful of tokens.  "Tell WHO what?"

"THEM!!"  His apprentice's eyes flashed angrily as she pointed at Mitsuhiko and Genta, who trailed along behind her, looking uncomfortable and defiant.  "They said that girls can't be magicians!"

Hei-san surveyed the two boys with a frown; they looked at their toes, a little shamefaced under his scrutiny.  "Where'd you get that idea?"

It was Mitsuhiko who answered first.  "'Cause there AREN'T any girl magicians.  Houdini-san wasn't a girl, and they all wear tuxedos… I know, I looked them up on my tousan's computer last night.  The only girls who do magic tricks are Lovely Assistants, so how can Ayumi-kun be a magician if—"

"—and *anyway,* all she can do is card tricks and juggling—"  That was Genta, getting his two yen's worth in.  Mitsuhiko elbowed him in the side for interrupting; he elbowed back, and the two engaged in a brief scuffle before Hei-san tapped them both on top of their heads with a knuckle apiece.

"Guys…  People can be whatever they want to be, if they work hard enough at it and they're willing to do what's necessary.  Just because it wasn't done before doesn't mean it can't *ever* be done, y'know…..  That's the sort of excuse that people use to get away with a lot of bad stuff."

Mitsuhiko rallied slightly, lower lip sticking out.  "Yeah, but—"

"—Yeah but nothing, kid.  There was a Japanese female magician back in 1906—can't remember her name just now—that performed a trick where she caught a _bullet_ in her teeth.  An American woman named Dorothy Dietrich did the same thing in the 1990's, and that's supposed to be the hardest magic trick there is."  Hei-san shook his head.  "And as for Lovely Assistants…"  He grinned.  "You two'd better watch out; someday she'll be asking one of YOU to be her 'Lovely Assistant'—and you'll be arguing over who gets to do it.  I even got Aoko to help out once or twice when we weren't much older than you—"

"—and the _*LAST*_ time you did, I swore I'd never do it again.  You put me in sequins and TIGHTS."

The voice from behind was not that of either Mitsuhiko, Genta, Ayumi, Conan, Rin or Ai; its effect on Hei-san was, however, immediate—his eyes grew suddenly very wide and he leaped to one side so quickly that his audience scarcely saw the move.  A good thing, too, as the mop-head that whipped down through the air just barely missed him.  "AWP!  Uh, h-hey, Aoko--?"

**"YOU are LATE!!!  Leave *me* with a note saying 'Pick up some munchies and meet me at the Arcade', will you?"  _**swish!**_ went the mop, sideways this time; Hei-san ducked with alacrity while passers-by pulled back in some alarm and the gradeschoolers made tracks into the dimly-lit arcade.  **

The dark-haired young woman whose eyes flashed angrily swung her cleaning implement once more, this time at ankle level; a quick leap into the air saved her victim from depeditation (as opposed to decapitation) and he made another jump backwards to avoid a jab from the handle.  "Aaack!  Sorry, sorry—had to wait for these guys, and—dammit, Aoko, quit already!  I'm *sorry,* okay?!"

_**swish!!**  She swung it one last time in an uppercut (which he avoided easily), then paused to lean on her weapon and glare.  "Oh, FINE.  You tease me all day at school, head off without me—and THEN I find out you've taped a note to my back telling me to pick up snacks!"_

Hei-san paused as well, an arrested look on his thin face.  "So, how long did it take you to find the note?"  She growled at him, fingering the shaft of the mop; he chucked.  "That long, huh?  Umm, sorry again….."

The Inspector's daughter ground her teeth.  "What's WITH you today, anyway?  You were—you—  I mean, you haven't flipped my skirt in *weeks* and you did it _three times_ today!  AND there was the note, AND I saw what you did to poor Nagi-kun's lunch, and don't think I didn't notice you sprinkling some sort of dust or powder all over Hakuba-kun's desk, and—"

She suddenly became aware of six pairs of very interested eyes; even the sounds of the Arcade behind them seemed to dim as her voice dwindled:  "—and, um—uh—  Kaito?"

Her friend scowled horribly, waving his hands in the air.  "'Hei-san', if you please.  Nakamori Aoko, allow me to introduce the members of the Teitan Elementary Young Detectives Club and Brute Squad."  He quickly rattled off names; she looked at them all, more than a little nonplussed.  "Don't let these cute young faces fool you," her friend continued blithely; "Behind these innocent eyes lurk the brains of investigative masterminds."  Mitsuhiko, Genta and Ayumi preened; Conan, Rin and Ai looked at each other and sighed.

"Nice to meet you… right.  Ayumi-chan mentioned you…"  Now Aoko's slightly perplexed gaze swiveled to meet that of the little girl's.  "Ayumi?  What's wrong?"

The child put her nose up and assumed an aggrieved air.  "Mitsuhiko and Genta are being _*BOYS.*  Can_ I borrow your mop?"

"I—don't think that'd be a very good idea, really.  And besides, I have to return it to the clerk next door—be right back."  With a final warning glare at Hei-san, the young woman slipped back out away for a few minutes.  

Mitsuhiko and Genta gave each other Looks that involved much eye-rolling.  "Girls," muttered Genta disgustedly, jingling the tokens in his pocket.  "Why do girls have to be so—so much work?  Why can't they be more like boys?"

"Because then they wouldn't get us in nearly as much trouble," answered Conan a little absent-mindedly.  The larger boy shot him a look of disbelief, then wandered off towards a Kamaitachi Dawn game, dragging Mitsuhiko behind him. 

"'Get you in nearly as much trouble,' hmm?"  The Detective of the East winced as Rin regarded him with annoyance.  "And I suppose you don't do *anything* to get there yourself?"  She put her hands on her hips, shaking her head; "Ayumi-kun, Ai-kun, you know what?  I think these two deserve each other for a while—"  Grabbing the other two girls by their hands, the former Mouri Ran firmly pulled them along as she headed into the arcade.  Aoko appeared back in the entrance about then, and over her shoulder Rin called out:  "Aoko-neesan?  Would you please play some games with us?  Conan-kun and Hei-san are being idiots."

Taken a little aback by the 'child's' straightforwardness, the teenager nodded and trailed along behind.  "Well, they ARE male; they probably can't help it—"  The rest of the Inspector's daughter's words were drowned out by the noise of the arcade as she and her smaller companions were swallowed up by the crowd inside.

Still at the entrance, Conan and Hei-san looked at each other again, eyebrows climbing.  "Well… THAT could have gone better, I guess."  The magician scratched at his head.  "Female solidarity; gotta love it…..  Why are you looking at me like that?"

The boy before him crossed his arms, leaning back against a soda-machine beside the entrance; blasts and other sound-effects from the game beside it made the metal casing rattle.  "I'm waiting for you to tell me what was so important that you found it necessary to burglarize my home a second time just to get my attention.  I seriously doubt that it was to introduce us to your girlfriend."

"…Right.  But y'know, that's kind of important too—I mean, I *haven't* told her much about you and Rin—and now there's this 'Ai' kid?  Well, not 'kid', but—  So she used to be--?"  The magician mimed adult-height again with one hand and whistled at the boy's somber nod.  "Ow.  _Three_ of you… or are there any more?"  He looked around rather wildly, as if expecting pint-sized figures to materialize from beneath the pachinko counters.  "No?  Good.  And as for why I wanted to talk to you…  I wanted to tell you the details of my next heist!  Doesn't that sound interesting, Conan-kun?"  Hei-san grinned down at the bug-eyed face in front of him.  "Yeah, I _*thought* you'd think so.  'Course, if you don't want to hear about it, we can go play BattleTech or something—"_

_**cli-click!!**  Conan's watch popped open; the crosshairs were lined up, and a dark blue eye glinted behind them.  "—or not, as the case may be," continued Hei-san, making sure he wouldn't trip if he had to run for it.  "And as why I brought you to an arcade, that's because—"_

"—because you don't want to be overheard, you're worried about being watched, and the noise level in this place is enough to make any surveillance equipment totally useless.  Please, I _do_ have a brain; that one was obvious."  The young detective closed his watch carefully.  "And just *why* would you voluntarily tell me about the crime you're planning to commit on the last Tuesday of the month—"

Hei-san _twitched._

"—in the Kyoto Botanical Gardens—"

_Twitch, twitch._

"—at 11:26 p.m.?"  He folded his arms and stared up, bland-faced, through his lenses at the thief.  "Want me to go on?"

"……not particularly.  It doesn't look like there's much I can tell you..."  Hei-san drew in a breath.  "Damn; you're almost as smart as **_*I*_ am."  The snort he received in answer made one corner of his mouth quirk up, but he went on before things got any more violent.  "Okay, you worked most of it out—good.  And as to why… well, genius, figure _that_ one out, why don't you?"  He crossed his arms and stared back, poker-faced.**

Conan slouched a little, hands stuffed in his pockets; he looked every bit the small boy—there was even a faint scuff of mud on his cheek from Recess earlier that day.  "Huh; fine, I'll bite.  Why WOULD you tell me?"

Hei-san shrugged, stuffing his own hands into _his_ pockets; for a moment the two mirrored each other.  "Dunno.  You're the detective; let's see you _detect."  The words held a challenge, thief to investigator, kaitou to tantei._

And so they stood there, the one thinking hard while the other watched…..

* * *

…..and from across the street, a heavy-set, elderly man shrugged his shoulders deeper into his worn black wool coat against the damp.  To all appearances his attention was on the newspaper that he held in front of him as he waited for the next bus, but his eyes were fixed on the entrance of the Starship Yamato Video Arcade directly opposite.  Occasionally he adjusted his hearing-aid (for surely that's what the small device lodge in his left ear was, wasn't it?) with an expression of irritation, but finally gave it up as a bad job and removed it, tossing the useless mechanism into a pocket with a grumble.  During it all, though, his eyes never strayed from the taller of the two figures from across the street.

He would probably have been far less intent on his job and far _*more*_ concerned for his own well-being if he had been paying any attention at all to the young blond man less than two meters away who also seemed to be waiting for the same bus.  Occasionally the foreign-looking teenager would glance up disinterestedly at the traffic (and, incidentally, the man in the black wool coat), but for the most part he seemed to be simply… waiting.

And watching.

* * *

"Fine."  Edogawa Conan's small face held that half-smirk that Hei-san was beginning to dread, the one that seemed to be the physical manifestation of the word _'gotcha.'_   "I think I see what you're trying to do here—but I wouldn't count on it working."

"Oh, really?  Why not?"  Hei-san looked understandably wary.

The boy shrugged.  "Because I have a stake in this too; if I can be there, I *will* be."  His expression was an odd mixture of several things:  annoyance, distinct disapproval over the crime which was to be committed, apprehension… and a reluctant twinge of admiration for the workings of a clever mind.  "You came here to tell me the details so I wouldn't try to find them out and then show up to see if I was right; but you keep forgetting that Rin and I are as much at risk as YOU are, dammit!  You—"

"Hang on, hang on—  Give me a break, Kudo, I didn't forget, but hear me out, okay?  Man, you get worked up so fast—you sure you're not related to Aoko's dad?"  Hei-san sighed, moving around so he could lean back against the drinks machine beside the boy; he stared out across traffic, face pensive and a little regretful.  "No matter how you look at it, you're *not* quite as much at risk—those Black Org guys, they think Kudo Shinichi's dead, don't they?  And they don't even *know* about Rin…  They may have seen Ayumi, but I doubt they think of her as anything other than just a little kid I teach stuff to, and you and the others are just her friends from school, right?  So, more or less… you're safe, at least for now."  He cocked one eyebrow up as the boy beside him shifted restlessly.  "Have I missed anything?"

"…no…"

"Good.  D'you get it now?  You're my Ace in the hole; *somebody* needs to know what's going on in case it all goes screwy."  He took a deep breath.  "I was originally hoping that the somebody would be Aoko, but I can't shake her—she's going along with me, though I've got an idea that'll keep her out of the line of fire—so SOMEone's gotta do it.  You see?"

"—wait; you DID miss something:  Ai-kun."

Hei-san's eyebrows rose.  "The scary blonde?  You're gonna have to tell me the details of your, err, shrinkage, before I really understand about her, but—ah, SHIT.  You said they know she's still around, didn't you?"  Twisting a bit, he peered over Conan's head and around the drink machine back into the depths of the arcade; the girl in question could just barely be made out, leaning boredly against a garish game-unit with her arms crossed.  "You think they're watching her?"

"I—no, probably not… but they *are* watching YOU, aren't they?  What if they spot her?"

The thief sighed, rubbing at his eyes with one hand; he suddenly looked tired.  "Good reason for her to stay away from me, then… and anyway, I don't think she likes me much.  Maybe she got traumatized by a rogue juggler when she was a kid the first time around."  Hei-san raised his head, staring abstractedly across the flow of cars beyond the sidewalk.  "Y'know, not that I'm regretting recent events all that much or anything, but life was a hell of a lot easier when I didn't have to worry so much about Aoko or you or Ayumi or scary blondes—"

And then suddenly his attention sharpened, focusing on something across the street.  "—and speaking of scary blonds—damn, damn, DAMN.  Hakuba, you _thickheaded_ piece of—"

"Huh?"  Conan's eyes narrowed.  "Trouble?"

His companion sighed, rocking back on his heels.  "Bingo; my trouble, though, not yours."  He thought for a moment.  "In fact, you just might *recall* this particular piece of trouble.  You remember a case from a while back where I impersonated your future father-in-law?"

"Don't YOU start.  And…yeah, I remember.  What IS it with you and disguises?  First Ran, then Mouri—"

Hei-san chuckled despite everything.  "Hey, everybody has to have a hobby…  Wait'll you see my Female Lawyer impression."  His grin faded as blond hair reflected the dim sunlight from across the street.  "As for that case, you remember a guy by the name of Hakuba Saguru?"

"Mmm; late teens, blond hair, weird accent?  Has a pet hawk?" hazarded the boy, also peering across the street.

"Falcon.  Yeah—my own personal stalker."  Briefly the thief explained Hakuba's Phantom Thief obsession, his suspicions regarding one Kuroba Kaito and his recent surveillance habits.  "Seems like he's picked up a watcher or two of his own, purely by contagion—he watches me, so they're watching _him. " He glanced down as the boy beside him suddenly stiffened.  "??"_

The Detective of the East had gone very still.  Hei-san frowned.  "What?"  He followed the boy's line-of-sight a little sideways from Hakuba… and stopped.  "Oh…..  I see.  Black coat.  But—it *is* a little chilly out, and regular people *do* have black coats as well—I mean, if you were going to condemn every person who owned a black outfit as being members of a criminal organization, every Goth on the planet would be in trouble."  No response, so he went on as reassuringly as possible while a small part of his mind noted that the man seemed to be wearing shades on a very overcast day, which was odd.  Why shades?  "As for Hakuba-kun, he's pretty bright, but even he makes mistakes—just because he trailed me here doesn't mean that old man's shadowing him— "

"You've got it wrong," said Conan softly; "Your friend's not _being_ followed… your friend's following the old man."  He nodded very carefully towards the two.  "Look how they're standing at that bus-stop; Hakuba-san's back a little bit behind a couple of people where he can watch the other man without really being seen, and he IS watching him; if you really are under surveillance, you were probably followed here—and Hakuba-san followed your shadow.  I doubt your classmate's even noticed you're here yet… but that old man **_IS_** watching you, 'Hei-san.'"

"Oh.  Oh shit.  Oh _shit."_  

And much to Edogawa Conan's surprise, the thief beside him stepped abruptly sideways to hide his shorter companion from view.  "Listen," he said hurriedly, "you go collect Aoko and the others and slip out—there's a back entrance, it leads onto an alleyway—"

A small hand gripped his jacket with surprising strength.  "Calm _down,_ you idiot—he's already watching you; panic and he'll just pay more attention."  Sharp blue eyes met his with a look of disapproval and warning.  "Think, Kuroba, _*think.* _  What does it look like you're here for?  To play video games, right?  So PLAY them.  C'mon—"  

And Hei-san suddenly found himself being bodily dragged back into the arcade by a loudly-complaining little boy, who whined that "Niisan SAID he'd play ShogunBoosterTanks with him" and that "the others are ALREADY PLAYING, and look, a machine's free right over there!"  Assuming an appropriate expression, he allowed himself to be dragged and privately resolved to either thank Kudo profusely at the first opportunity… or possibly stuff him head-first into a trash-bin for being so goddamned _right_ all the time.

* * *

Hakuba Saguru was quite good at being patient; it was one of what he considered to be his many virtues.  He was good at tracking and surveillance, even the boring bits where all one could do was sit and stare at a quarry's home and brood over past encounters.  Brooding was useful, he told himself; it sharpened a person's sense of purpose.  Forgiveness was for those without the fortitude to see justice done.

Which, he also told himself, was why he was spending far too bloody many of his free hours dealing with the idiots that seemed to be watching Kuroba lately.  _*There's some truth in that old saying about thieves falling out among themselves, apparently,* he thought, watching the old man in the black wool coat with sharp attention.  Of course, that did not explain why they had taken to watching *him* lately, nor why the thief had warned him to take care…_

He wondered with a feeling of unease where the other teenager was at the moment.  Usually Kuroba left school with Aoko-kun, but today he had slipped out early.  It had been the merest chance that Hakuba had recognized the man on the phone across the street from the school as one of the men who had shadowed _him_ recently.  If he hadn't stopped in at the store after class…

Well.  The trained mind took advantage of whatever opportunities were available— _'Be Prepared' worked as well for detectives as it did for American boyscouts._

Hakuba smiled slightly to himself and shrugged his shoulders a little deeper into his jacket against the damp, quite determined to follow his quarry until he had a better grasp of whatever linked the watcher to Kuroba.  _*And then we'll see what we shall see, shan't we?*_

* * *

And from roughly a meter behind, Pyotr Konstanz watched all three of them, the faintest look of disquiet in his eyes.

* * *

"You know," remarked Hei-san conversationally as he surveyed the difference between his and his opponent's scores (and tried not to be too obvious about looking towards the entrance every two seconds), "for a Great Detective you _totally_ suck at video games.  Thought you were supposed to be a crack shot or something, hmm?"

The boy beside him (plugging away at his target like grim death and missing three times out of four) shot him a dirty look and muttered something that the noise of the arcade fortunately rendered inaudible.  Not that this mattered much, considering that Hei-san was quite adept at reading lips; he clicked his tongue once, shaking his head.  "Do you kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?  No, don't answer that, I don't even BEGIN to want to know how you two handle the prepuberty-again relationship thing."

**_*THAT*_ brought about a glare that made the thief step back involuntarily; he even looked mildly contrite.  "Uh, sorry; touchy subject, huh?"  No response.  Conan's accuracy and speed noticeably improved, and Hei-san blinked as the boy's score began to climb.  **

"Okay, *really* sorry, then.  None of my business, and why would you want to disclose the details of your love-life to a wanted criminal anyway?"  He cast a slightly nervous glance towards the entrance of the arcade, through which he just barely see the crowd at the bus-stop across the street.  Was the man even still there?  "Not that I blame you," he went on absentmindedly, filling in the relative (very relative, considering the noise) silence from waist-level with chatter.  "I mean, Rin-kun's something else—smart, loyal waaaay beyond the bounds of sanity, feisty, much scarier than a gradeschooler has any right to be…"  Hei-san's eyes sharpened just a little; was that a _second_ person in black, joining the first?  A young woman, it looked like, wearing some sort of black jacket or sweater.

He kept talking; at his elbow, the speed and vehemence of the shooting had leveled out and slowed a little.  "I know I'm probably out of line saying this, but… you're lucky, you know?  I don't know the circumstances as to why she suddenly ended up in the same fix as you, but I'm assuming it was voluntary—and that's damned impressive, if a little out there in the Twilight Zone."

"It… _was_ voluntary."

Hei-san very carefully did not look at the source of the subdued voice but instead took a great deal of interest in one of the game-tokens; he walked the coin across the back of his hand and through his fingertips, flipping it from one hold to another with a magician's effortless skill.  "Must've been pretty traumatic for both of you.  I've had to handle some weird situations, but nothing like that… and I don't know what I'd do if Aoko went and—"  He grimaced.

"…………."

"It's hard enough on Aoko, y'know; dealing with me, I mean.  She's Inspector Nakamori's daughter, for crying out loud—she's known me since we were kids, she doesn't LIKE Phantom Thieves, and she's been rooting for her dad to catch me ever since I got started."  Two more tokens joined the first, dancing across his hand as if moving under their own power; he set one spinning on a fingertip while the others disappeared from view.  "I suppose you've figured out that she hasn't known about my 'night job' for very long; thought she was going to turn me in to her dad first off, but she's… dealing with it.  I don't know what'll happen in the future, though."  

The last token was suddenly replaced by a rather odd piece of metal, a half-disc of what looked remarkably like gold; it glittered in the arcades gaudy lighting as Hei-san flipped it across his knuckles in a graceful slide before glancing down at the boy, who had rather abruptly stopped firing.  "Must've dropped this—" he said politely, handing it over.

"Oh, of _course_ I did," muttered Conan.  "Stay out of my pockets."  Hei-san gave him his best innocent smile as he carefully tucked the half-coin away.

Dark blue eyes behind glass lenses flickered restlessly around the arcade, pausing and then fixing on the figure of a small, brown-haired young girl at a particularly violent game-console; her face was set in concentration as she aimed and fired, a furrow of concentration between her brows.  The former Kudo Shinichi's look of annoyance over having his pockets picked softened as he watched, and a small smile crept across his lips.  "She really *is* something, isn't she?"

"Mmhmm… though personally If I had to choose between the two of 'em in bikinis, I'd rather watch Aoko—"

Even Conan had to grin a little at that.  "Yeah, well, you're biased."

A pause; and then Hei-san's eyebrows rose mischievously.  "*_Straight,* actually, though they DO say that variety is the spice of life…"  _

That little remark sent the boy into a fit of coughing, and his companion solicitously pounded him on the back.  "You okay, Conan-kun?"   Not receiving a reply (or nothing repeatable in mixed company, in any case), he went on meditatively.  "You s'pose they're still mad at us?"

"Probably, though I'd bet that half of that on Rin's part was an act to get the others away for a bit; she knew I wanted to talk to you."  A cursory glance at the way the girl's chin was jutting out made him wince slightly.  "Just half, though—I think I've been brooding maybe a little too much today and it gets on her nerves."  He fed several more tokens back into their game and pushed the start button.  "She's got quite a temper… though she's never chased me around with a mop.  What was that all about, anyway?"

Hei-san shrugged, pushing his shock of hair back out of his eyes.  "Oh, I went a bit overboard at school this morning.  I always get a little hyper—uh, well, more hyper than usual, that is—just before a heist.  She's used to my playing pranks and all that, but I think taping that note to her back was just a wee bit too much."  He sighed and watched as Conan carefully aimed at (and missed) several moving targets before taking his turn.  "Women; they're worse than cats.  Pay too much attention to them and they get all annoyed… pay too _little_ and you might as well go out and play in traffic."

Conan responded with a brief, unchildlike grimace.  "Tell me about it.  And they can make your life pure hell if they're in the mood, though Rin's not so bad now—"  It said a lot about their general mood that neither of them found the reply in the least funny despite their apparent age difference.  For a moment they were united in mutual male annoyance.

"Right."

_*???*  They_ both blinked; Kaito looked down, Conan looked across the thief to his left, and Mitsuhiko looked up.  "What?  It's _true…"_  The freckled boy gave a deep sigh and looked past them at where Rin, Ayumi and Ai all watched Aoko as she took her turn in determinedly mowing down large numbers of electronic targets.  Apparently they had been talking; the stubborn tilt of all four female chins spoke volumes to the boys:  _If you want us to treat you like anything higher than dogfood, you'd better make it worth our whiles.  And we MEAN it._

With practiced ease, Conan slid back into 'child' mode as Hei-san watched with the appreciation of a true disguise artist.  "Where's Genta, Mitsuhiko-kun?  Did he beat you at Warp-10 GeoFighters again?"

The boy looked sulky.  "He's in the bathroom.  And I beat HIM this time, and then I tried to get Haibara-kun to play, but….."  Mitsuhiko heaved a sigh as heavy as any from someone three times his age.  "Girls just don't seem to understand, do they?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.  "I mean, you can be as nice as—as—You can be what my mom calls a _Real Gentleman_—" (the capitol letters were easily audible over the noise of the arcade) "—and they get mad at you anyway.  And THEN you *still* have to go to school with them the next day and watch them stay mad…..  Hei-san?  Do you know any magic tricks that'll, well…"

The teenager hit his firing-button a little harder than necessary and snorted.  "…fix things?  Heh; I wish.  But—well, I've got *one* that might help a little, except that you have to do it for ALL the ladies instead of just one."  A deep blue gaze crinkled with amusement.  "If you only do it for one of 'em, the others'll get jealous."  Conan looked up suspiciously; the thief had that look on his face, the one he was learning to be wary of…..

"Really?" asked Mitsuhiko eagerly.  "What?"

He winked.  _"Flowers,_ of course.  Girls *love* flowers."  The older boy stepped back for a moment from the arcade game, rummaging around in a pocket.  "Lessee….. think I got a few…… yeah!  Here, give 'em these—" Into the boy's outstretched hands he dropped four small brightly-colored capsules no more than half an inch long apiece.  The gradeschooler goggled at them for a moment.  "Now, what you do is this:  hide 'em in your sleeve 'til the last moment, ask the girls to all hold out their hands side-by-side, let the capsules slide down into your palm… and then *squeeze* really, really hard before you let go over their hands."  A grin flickered across his mobile face as he demonstrated with a fifth capsule between his fingers; after a second of sharp pressure the scarlet blob swelled and unfolded to become a stemless silk carnation.  "You think they'll like that?"

"Wowwww….. that's _cool.  _Thanks, Niisan!  And if I give them ALL flowers, I won't get embarrassed like I would if I was just giving one to A—"  Mitsuhiko cut himself off sharply, turning as red as the petals.  From Hei-san's other side came the sound of a muffled chuckle as the freckled boy hurried away towards the girls, passing a returning Genta on the way.  The larger boy stared after his friend and then followed, drying his hands on his pants.

"And once more age and treachery overcomes youth and enthusiasm," commented Hei-san wryly; he chuckled as well.  "They start out really young, don't they?  'Course, if he's going after the scary blonde I sort of doubt he'll have much luck, which is sad.  Then again, you never know—"

The boy beside him shuddered.  "With Ai-kun, it's better not to even speculate.  If there's one thing I've learned, it's that second-guessing her is a *bad* idea."  Delighted outcries momentarily were audible over the clangs and **_bdow-bdow-bdow__!*__*_ noises of the arcade as Mitsuhiko worked his trick with commendable results.  "Now:  back to the main subject."  Sharp eyes pinned Hei-san in place.  "Would you mind telling me _*exactly*_ what you have planned for the 29th before we're interrupted again?"

"…………."  The thief looked rather shifty-eyed.  "Well," he hedged, "I haven't got EVERY little tiny detail worked completely out yet…"

"Oh, right; like I'd believe that.  I *am* familiar with your methods, you know.  Pull the other one."

Hei-san sighed philosophically and selected a target on the game's screen.  "It was easier when you were chasing me in that damned helicopter," he muttered.  "—or on the back of Heiji-kun's motorcycle—"

Conan stiffened at the familiar use of his friend's name.  "You… do you _know Hattori Heiji?  You don't, do you?"_

A smirk from above his head, accompanied by beeping and electronic explosion-sounds.  "Ask him about his most recent houseguests, why don't you?  Oh, and ask him if he's had any hangovers lately."  _**bdow!! bdow!!**  Hei_-san sounded remarkably pleased with himself.  "Nice place his family has; some interesting locks on the doors and windows…..  His security system could use some updating, though; there's this really great new setup he could get from Imoto Enterprises with a few new tricks built into it that—"

There was the sound of eight-year-old teeth grinding.  "WHAT were you doing at Heiji's?  You were burglarizing his place?!?"

Hei-san blinked innocently.  "You say that like it's a bad thing….. and actually, *no;* I was breaking and _exiting, not breaking and _entering._  Big difference in the eyes of the law, actually."  He eyed the speechless detective, wondering if perhaps he had pushed things a little too far.  "Believe it or not, I actually did him a good turn—in my own way, of course; he and that girl of his are getting along a little better than before, or they were the last time I saw them…"_

"Which was?"  Conan was still grinding his teeth.

"Huh?  Oh, um—couple of weeks ago.  Nice guy, for a detective.  Did you know he's a Speed Racer fan?"  

A vein was beginning to throb visibly on the boy's forehead, and while Hei-san had decided that baiting detectives was even more fun than playing Dogpile On The Bandit with the cops, it might be prudent to call it a day at that point.  "Errr, back to the subject—details, right.  I'm still ironing out the last fiddly bits, but basically the whole thing shouldn't take more than a half-hour or so, depending on how many of the bad guys show up."  Hei-san glanced reflexively towards the doorway; his watchers were still there, waiting across the street.  "I've warned Nakamori-kun—Aoko's dad—to be a little more careful than usual, that there's going to be unfriendly fire and to show up loaded for bear; I don't know if he'll pay attention or not, but I'd say it's probable.  The man's no moron, even if he does come off all bluster and no brains sometimes."

"So…"  The thief could almost see Kudo Shinichi's wheels turning behind the small, thoughtful face.  "What's my part in all this?"  There was no mistaking the warning in his voice.  "You *know* I'm not going to just sit it out—"

 Now it was Hei-san's time to grind his teeth.  "Look, Kudo—"

"'Conan!'  It's 'CONAN'—Dammit, you're as bad as Heiji—"

He rolled his eyes.  "'Conan-kun', right, right, right.  God forbid I should mistake you for somebody _*older* and with __*more common sense* than your average eight-year-old—"_

"Are you two **STILL** arguing?"

The voice stopped them both in their tracks; they nearly jumped out of their skins, staring at the small girl who stood regarding them with her hands on her hips.  "If you *both* don't manage to come to some sort of working agreement RIGHT NOW, you're going to find out what a karate practice dummy feels like," warned Rin.  

Nakamori Aoko stood just behind her, looking more than a little puzzled; apparently they had been there long enough to catch the last few sentences.  "Who's 'Kudo'?" she asked tentatively, her forehead wrinkling.  "Wasn't he—oh!  I remember—Kudo Shinichi…   He was that teenage detective that worked on the Clock Tower Kaitou Kid case….."  She trailed off a little uncertainly, her gaze switching back and forth between the boy and Hei-san.  

Beside her, Rin looked resigned.  "Kudo Shinichi," she said quietly, "is someone that's trying to be too smart for his own good and too *stubborn* for everybody else's.  And apparently he's not the only one."  The gradeschooler looked directly at the boy in front of her, her eyes very sharp and very bright.  "NOW what's wrong?"

The two glanced at each other, sharing an unspoken agreement that it would be easier to work their problems out alone than to explain them to anybody else; they edged unconsciously a little closer to each other.  

"Nothing."  

"Not a thing."

Rin shook her head.  "Right…..  Okay, now hear this, the BOTH of you:  _No more head-butting._  I don't care who's the criminal or who's the detective, this is too important for that to matter.  You agreed to work together, didn't you?"  Behind her Aoko made a small sound in her throat; it might have been a gurgle of shock over the word 'criminal' or it might have been a laugh.  Rin glanced behind her and sighed.  "Aoko-san, could you come with me over to—I don't know, um—to that DigitalRacers game over in the corner?"  It was a dual-player driving game, and the two seats were somewhat enclosed by a sort of booth which would give a certain amount of privacy.  "I think I need to explain a few things….. and THESE two need to work out a compromise.  _Or else."  She turned back to glare at the two abashed males.  "Last warning, I promise you.  And Conan-kun?"_

"…what?"  He looked understandably nervous.

"I agree with Kuro—I mean, 'Hei-san'—about your staying here.  OUR staying here, that is; I heard a little of what he was saying.  If we even managed to *get* to Kyoto, what could we do, anyway?"  Her annoyance shaded a little into Mouri Ran's smile, though only a little.  "I don't think either of us has enough sleep-darts to handle _everybody…"_

The boy looked every inch the sulky child, arms crossed and head down.  Beside him (either unconsciously or intentionally, it was hard to say which) Hei-san had assumed the exact same posture.  "Mmph.  I do not like the idea of just waiting on the sidelines and letting this—this—"  He glared up at the teenager, searching for a suitable epithet.

"—'World-Renowned Phantom Thief'?  'Expert at what he does'?  'Idol of Millions'?" Hei-san drawled out, one eyebrow raised.

"—MORON do all the work.  If he screws up, WE'RE screwed up.  If they take him prisoner, they'll wring him out like a dishrag before they kill him and—"

"Kaito will *not* screw up!" said Aoko indignantly.  And then she looked perplexed and a little afraid.  "How do you know anything about this anyway?  You're just a—"

One small hand tugged at her elbow, and she looked down into Rin's eyes; they held something that stopped the words in her mouth.  "A kid?  Well… that's why we need to talk, Aoko-san.  Come on; I'll explain some of it at least."  And the girl tugged her away towards the racing game in the corner of the arcade.  "And as for YOU two—"  A single warning glance was all she gave, and she said nothing more as they left Conan and Hei-san behind.

"………………."

"………………."

"I—uh.  Okay.  I guess she's right—I *have* kind of been a pain."  Hei-san looked marginally embarrassed.  "And I know it's a bitter pill to swallow, having to stay out of things that can turn into an Ass-Deep-In-Alligators situation if they go sour.  It's just… this is gonna be hard enough this time; it's not even a regular heist, and _those_ were pretty near things occasionally as well; the fewer people involved in the actual thing itself, the fewer potential targets.  I don't want anybody else to get hurt, not you, not the cops, not even the bad guys if it can be helped."  The thief ducked his head, staring unseeingly at the game console before him; one hand went out and tapped lightly on the firing button but did not press down.  "And that includes you and Rin-kun.  You're already casualties in a weird sort of way; I—don't want to see anybody else die."  Absentmindedly his right hand went up to his left shoulder as if to soothe a remembered pain; Hei-san held it for a moment, then dropped that hand to rest on the machine as well.

Conan was silent for a moment, staring into space; then he sighed.  "Understood," he said reluctantly.  "I don't like it, but Rin's right, you're right, and I'm not so stupid that I'm going to risk my life or anybody else's just to try and prove that *I'M* right.  I don't like a _lot of things about this whole business, but—truthfully?  The fact that you're going to be committing a crime seems… _small,_ really, in comparison to everything else."_

_"'SMALL'??"  Hei-san gave him a wounded look.  "Oh, thanks LOADS—I'll have you know I take my rep very, very seriously."  He snorted with great indignation.  _"'Small'…_  You work your ass off, get shot at, have people jump on your head, wear pantyhose and a wig when the occasion warrants it, but noooooo, that's not *enough* for some people; _some_ people __still call it 'small'….."  His muttering trailed off into grumbles which the boy beside him determinedly ignored._

"Truce?" offered Kudo tentatively, looking up.

"Haven't we been here before?" asked Hei-san with a wry smile, looking down.

"………."  The boy shrugged.  "I think this time we'd better make it stick—or Rin really will use us as karate practice-dummies.  She's got a mean side to her if she thinks you're being deliberately stupid."  He stuck out a small hand, studying the thief's face seriously.  "Well?"

Hei-san held out his own hand—and then a mischievous grin as wide as Tokyo broke across his face.  "They're still watching, you know," he said softly, nodding towards the entrance and the street beyond.  "Let's make this look good, okay?"  And he closed his hand, crooking his pinky and sticking it out.  "'Pinky Swear'?"

"??  Oh, come ON now—"

"Hey, you did a Pinky Swear with 'Yumi-chan, she *told* me you did—you swore to be her Best Friend back when Rin showed up.  What, you can't do the same for me?"  He did a creditable impression of a kicked puppy, large sad eyes and all.  "I am wounded to the quick—"

"Fine, fine," muttered Kudo Shinichi, a little red-faced at having to act like—well, a little boy; he held out his pinky, hooked it in Hei-san's and recited "I-Edogawa-Conan-do-solemnly-swear-to-quit-being-such-a-jerk-and-cooperate-with—  I can't _*believe*_ I'm doing this--  with-the-Kaitou-Kid-until-we-get-this-damned-thing-completely-finished-and-over-with.  Is that good enough for you?" he asked, one eyebrow rising sarcastically.

"Yup!  And _I,_ Hei-san, Pain-In-The-Ass Extraordinaire, do solemnly swear to try to adhere to the moral standards of waist-high detectives everywhere… and not to be such a jerk myself about disclosing info."  He grinned down at his companion apologetically.  "Sorry; it's just that you're SUCH a good target.  That's sort of a compliment, by the way—you do great reactions, though Aoko does the best."

Conan just rolled his eyes.  

They shook pinkies then, and the bargain was sealed.  "So," said Hei-san cheerfully, loading several more tokens into the game in front of him, "Why don't you tell me the details of just how the hell you got shrunk while I beat you one more time at ShogunBoosterTanks?"

******************************************************************************************

"This way—"  Hei-san kept his eyes fixed carefully on the entrance while ushering the others out the back door of the arcade.  He paused long enough to give the manager a quick wave before closing the door behind him.  "There, that takes care of those two and Hakuba-kun as well."  The teenager glanced towards the small group waiting silently in the shelter of the building's overhang.  "Conan-kun?"

"One more down the alley, just past the dumpster," said the boy very softly; Aoko bit her lip and the three real kids all looked more than a little nervous.  

They had been informed that the "bad guys" were watching Hei-san now, and that they'd have to take a slightly different route away from the arcade than they had arrived by.  "You mean we're going to be _devious?" Genta had asked almost eagerly.  'Devious' was something he had picked up from a movie recently—Mitsuhiko's American video habit was turning into a bad influence—and he had been itching to use it.  Hei-san had looked pleased and nodded, commenting that 'devious' was one of HIS favorite words too ("No, _really?"_ Conan had muttered, which had earned him a Look from both Rin and Ayumi)._

Now the magician was rummaging around in his pockets.  Aoko shot a quick, slightly wide-eyed look towards the boy with the glasses and the two girls who stood beside him before turning back towards Hei-san.  There had been no time to discuss any of the afternoon's revelations; the three gradeschoolers needed to get home eventually, and they had already spent more time at the arcade than their parents would probably deem healthy.

First, though, they had to get what Hei-san called 'the hell out of Dodge.'  He was fiddling with something small and shiny, his face guarded and a little tense while they watched.  "A couple of little sleep-grenades and then no more problem," he muttered, twisting some small component on whatever he held in his hand.  "Except… no."  A scowl crossed his mobile face; he twisted the gizmo again, popping it back into his pocket after it had clicked.  "Damn.  Back inside, guys, real quiet now—"

There was a mutual sort of group "???" as all eyes focused on him in confusion; making shooing motions, Hei-san herded all parties back inside and closed the door as silently as possible.  "Should've *thought* of that… dammit, dammit, dammit.  It's like this," he said, turning back to the questioning faces behind him.  "If we all sneak out, they'll KNOW we know we're being watched, and that'll put you kids at risk.  If just you guys sneak out and Aoko and me leave the regular way, they'll wonder where you went and start watching YOU."  Conan's face went an interesting shade of pale at this.  "If me and Aoko sneak out and you leave the normal way, they'll get even *more* suspicious of us; but… if we all leave more or less normally—"

"—they won't realize that we saw them or that you know you're being watched.  Good idea," finished Conan, chewing on his lip.  "What's to keep them from following us when we leave through the front, though?"

"Nothing at all."  The teenager looked rather grim, an expression which sat uneasily on his normally cheerful face.  "I'm—well, I'm not OKAY exactly with them following Aoko and me, but it's a lot less okay if they take an interest in you lot.  I don't want them to pay you any more attention than they would anybody else, so….."  He scowled again—and then his face slowly shaded back a little at a time towards a rather sneaky grin.  "Ooooh. Yeah, _that'll_ work.  Okay, got it."

"K—Hei-san?  WHAT are you planning to do?  I know that look—"  Aoko was getting more nervous by the second.

"Oh, nothing—just a little diversion.  _Trust_ me, I've got it all figured out."  She exchanged a doubtful look for his confident one but subsided.  "Listen, guys—you remember those painters from about a block away?  You must've passed 'em on the way in—"  Frowning, Mitsuhiko, Genta and Ayumi all nodded; there had been a two-story scaffolding set up, complete with plastic tarps and several painters remodeling one of the local buildings.  Hei-san's eyes shone with mischief and a sharp, sharp light that Conan remembered very well from several past encounters with his alter-ego.  "Okay, this is how we'll do it.  Act as normal as possible when we leave; me and Aoko'll sort of trail in the back and Conan and Rin'll take the front.  Keep walking past the painters; you'll hear me start counting down… and when I get to three, drop sideways and head to your right.  There's this really narrow little alley between Di's Pet Emporium and a noodle place right next to it—take off down the alleyway and I'll be right behind you.  You got that?"

"Hei-san?  What're you going to do?"  That was Ayumi; her eyes were a little scared but full of trust.  "I thought we were going to be _devious—"_

He grinned back at her and the others, pulling something small out of his pocket again; Conan in particular craned his neck to see what it was, but the magician palmed it before he could get a good look.  "Oh, we ARE being devious; we're being even more devious this way than we would if we had snuck out the back."  His eyes twinkled; reassured, she returned his grin with a small one of her own.

As they made their way through the garishly-lit arcade towards the front, Conan and Rin felt more than saw the magician come up behind them.  "You two okay with taking point?  If things go bad, I figured you'd want to be able to take charge of the kids—"

"Not a problem," said Conan quietly; beside him Rin nodded, her small face a little worried but determined as well.

"And what would you like *me* to do, since you seem to be in charge?"  Ai's soft voice spoke up from beside Hei-san, making him jump slightly; he had not seen her come up.

"Uhhh… keep an eye on the others?  And make sure none of 'em get split up from us when we go down the alley?"

"Fine."  She gave him one of her penetrating stares as they passed through a somewhat darker part of the arcade; her eyes widened briefly as he glanced down at a game-screen, and it almost seemed as if she were going to say something…but then the moment passed, and then they were at the front and out onto the sidewalk.

Two figures from across the street stirred; as if tired of waiting for the bus, they made their way across the street, talking casually.  Moments later a third followed, blond hair reflecting the dim afternoon sun.  "Bingo," murmured Hei-san, watching from the corner of his eyes.

The kids were understandably nervous; Genta in particular kept trying to turn around to see if the Bad Guys were following, but a hissed command from Conan put an end to that after a time or two.  Hei-san chattered easily with Aoko, who did her best to answer (she still seemed a little shell-shocked from her conversation with Rin), and as the magician strolled along, he did something quick and intricate with his fingertips to the device cupped in his palm.

Behind them, the man in the black coat and the woman in the black sweater kept up, no more and no less than ten meters back.  And behind _them came Hakuba._

"Kai—uh, Hei-san?  …what IS that?"  She did not turn her head, but instead kept her eyes fixed on the small figures walking side-by-side at the front.  "Are you going to blow something up again?"  The Inspector's daughter sounded remarkably suspicious; Rin and Conan both glanced back, alert.

"Yup."

"You ARE?"

"Mmmhmm.  Just a _*little*_ explosion, though, really really tiny," he assured her.  "Hey, trust me—I'm a Professional, y'know."  His fingers moved, pinching something and holding it tight on the whatever-it-was in his palm.  They were just coming up to the painters, who were currently involved in a heated discussion with a delivery-truck with a cargo of paint-cans, parked on the side of the street.  "Heh; perfect.  Couldn't have set it up any better if I had organized it myself.  No crowds, no painters up the ladders or working…..  Everybody ready?"  

That last had been to the others as well.  Six heads nodded, even Ai's.  "Okay then, moving right on a count of three —"  As they detoured around the tarp-draped scaffolding full of boards, paint-cans and other assorted debris, Hei-san casually flicked his right hand against one of the major joints of the structure; a close observer might have noticed that he had left _something_ behind when he moved on past, something rather like a flat, round band-aid as wide as a person's palm, stuck neatly to the metal.

He picked up their pace, speaking in a soft, hurried whisper.  "Showtime, everybody—One….."

Aoko's eyes grew large and she grabbed his hand with hers.

"Two….."

Haibara Ai unobtrusively slipped behind Genta, Ayumi and Mitsuhiko, her face grim.

_"Three!"_

**_***POP!!!***_**

It was rather amazing, really; the joint of the scaffolding simply… **_came apart,_** with very little fuss or fanfare.  For half a second or so the painter's scaffolding remained standing, almost as if nothing had happened—

--and then, with the most horrendous shriek of twisting metal and clattering boards, it began, almost gracefully, to FALL.

**_***BANG!!  WHAM!!!  CLANGCLANGCLAAANNNNNGGGGOINGOINGOING!!!  SPLATsplatsplatSPLOOOOOSSSH!!!***  The_ workmen shouted and dove behind the delivery truck as splattering paint cans were catapulted through the air, fountaining their contents all over the place.  **_***SPLATsplatSPLAT!!!***_****

_"Banzai!!  MOVE it, everybody!"  Eight bodies crammed themselves rightwards into what could barely be called an alleyway (it was scarcely a meter across), traveling as fast as their feet could carry them; Conan led the way, while Hei-san brought up the rear, laughing breathlessly as he ran….._

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Paint, especially medium blue paint manufactured for all-weather outside application, does *not* come out easily from a black wool coat, or from a black knit sweater.  Nor, for that matter, does it remove from skin and hair without a struggle.

Blond hair especially.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

After he had at last stopped laughing from his vantage point on the other side of the street, Pyotr Konstanz plopped ungracefully down onto a bench at yet *another* bus-stop and did his best to catch his breath.  _*God of my fathers,*_ he thought as he fought back another snicker at the memory of three outraged, paint-spattered faces, _*this is the young man Cari wants me to keep an eye on?*  _Shaking his head at the whole thing, Pyotr began to laugh yet again as passers-by gave him odd looks.  _*It's a good thing she likes him; I'd hate to have him as an enemy.*_

_*And now--*  He sobered slightly, thinking about what would be happening in a few days. _*Now, if he'll only cooperate…  And what if he won't, Pyotr?  What if he won't?*__

If he didn't….. Ah well, Cari was _quite_ well-versed in coming up with ways to encourage cooperation—some of which, of course, were less pleasant than others…..

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

It took thirty minutes' worth of dodges down alleys, quick trips up fire-escapes and across rooftops, and circuitous routes through abandoned buildings (which their guide seemed mysteriously able to open without the least problem) before Hei-san was satisfied.  "Okay, I'd say we've lost 'em.  Everybody alright?"

Ayumi was slightly out of breath but her eyes were shining as she leaned against a fence, panting.  "That was COOL!  How'd you learn all those—those--  _*_I*_ want to learn how to get around like that!  Can you show me how someday?"_

The Detective of the East opened his mouth to say something caustic, only to be stopped by Rin's hand across his lips.  "Maybe," smiled Hei-san.

Conan _twitched._

"But not today…  You lot need to get home and so do we.  You go first, and we'll watch your backs for a few minutes; if you cut through there and zig-zag left and then right at the first two turns, you'll come out just east of the corner of Fifth and Hotoharu.  And—errr, guys?  Genta-kun, Mitsuhiko-kun?  I wouldn't worry your parents by mentioning the guys in black if I were you… "  He raised an eyebrow.  "Okay?"

Genta and Mitsuhiko nodded cheerfully; secrets were old hat to them.  "We've got a lot of tokens left; can we do this again?" inquired the skinnier of the two.  Hei-san winced slightly, but promised another arcade trip in the near future.  "And maybe Conan-kun and you can have a rematch on ShogunBoosterTanks!" enthused Genta, making the boy with the glasses twitch a second time.

"Heh…"  The former Kudo Shinichi suppressed an extreme desire to curse as Hei-san nodded enthusiastically.

"Ayumi?"  The little girl turned to look at Aoko.  "Could you come here a moment?  There's something I need to check before we leave—"  At Kaito's enquiring glance the young woman flushed slightly.  "Um… the eye thing… you remember?"  
Conan blinked.  'Eye thing?'

With the others looking on in incomprehension and more than a little puzzlement, the Inspector's daughter cupped her hands around the child's face, shading her eyes.  "It's not dark enough…  Ayumi-chan?  Hang on just a sec—"  Using a couple of sheets of paper from a nearby trashbin, Aoko carefully blocked out as much light as possible and then peered in again, drawing a sharp breath after a second.

"Aoko-san?  What's wrong?"  The girl sounded more than a little worried.  "Why—"

"It's… okay, Ayumi-chan.  It's just fine.  I—wanted to check something, that's all."  Aoko bit her lip and drew back, crumpling the paper and lobbing it towards the trashbin before looking back at Kaito and nodding almost imperceptibly at Kaito.  

The thief's brows drew down for half a second before his face smoothed out again into something remarkably similar to the Kid's poker face; watching, Edogawa Conan traded confused and slightly alarmed looks with Rin, although Ai merely observed with silent, intent eyes.  "Is everything alright?" ventured the former Mouri Ran, moving forward a little to stand beside Ayumi.

"Yeah… fine.  Nothing to worry about…"  Hei-san shrugged.  "I'll talk to you in a day or so, okay?"

Kudo Shinichi's warning stare was no less piercing for issuing from Conan's eyes.  "You *do* that.  But no more 'special delivery' messages, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever…"  Airily the thief waved away any perceived or unperceived threats.  "Don't worry, you'll hear from me.  Take care of yourselves, will you?  See ya!"  He turned away.

"—oh, and 'Yumi-chan?"

"Hmmmm?"  The little girl was busy running her fingers across her own face in puzzlement.  "I don't feel anything different…  What?"

He knelt before her.  "You _let me know right away_ if you see any of those guys in black, okay?  Here—" and he quickly scribbled down a phone number, passing it over as Aoko nodded in obviously approval.  "It doesn't matter what time it is or where you are—that's my cell-phone number, and if you see 'em you *call* me, okay?"  She nodded, and he stood back up.  "Good.  Keep practicing your juggling and—" he chuckled as her face lit up, "—maybe we can learn some new patterns next week.  'Kay?"

"Okay!  Bye!"  She waved, and they parted.

As the small group of gradeschoolers trooped down the narrow, debris-strewn alley, the shortest member scowled silently to himself.  "What on *Earth* was that about your eyes, Ayumi-kun?  Do they feel alright?" he wondered out loud.

"I guess… I don't know--  They feel just fine and I can see okay—I read last night until it was really late and they didn't even get tired."  The child wrinkled her forehead.  "Maybe they made a mistake?  They don't *look* different, do they?"

"Let me see."  To Conan's surprise, Ai moved forward to stare intently into the other girl's face.  "Hm; the color hasn't changed… refraction, though…"  She turned her watch a little sideways, clicking on the light that Professor Agasa had built into it and shining it carefully into Ayumi's eyes.

"Ow!  That's BRIGHT!"

"…ah.  Refraction has altered just perceptibly… and your pupils— interesting."  The scientist clicked off the light and then gave her friend one of her rare smiles.  "It's just as 'Hei-san' said, nothing to worry about."

"But—well… okay…"  She still seemed a little doubtful but allowed Ai to gently herd her along the alleyway.  Behind both their backs, the other two faux gradeschoolers raised eyebrows at each other.

"Rrrrgh…"  Conan was still smarting a little from several of Hei-san's more choice hits (not to mention a devastating defeat at ShogunBoosterTanks); a thought occurred to him, accompanied by a wicked grin worthy of even the least principled of Phantom Thieves.  "Hey, Ayumi?  Didn't Hei-san forget something?"  He nodded at the plastic bag that was poking just slightly out of the top of Ayumi's backpack.  "You don't want him to leave without his _present, do you?"_

"AWP!"  The child looked abashed, turning and charging after the not-yet-distant figure of her teacher.  "Hei-san!!  HEI-SANNN!!!"

Rin quirked an eyebrow up.  "Shinichi….. that was _*cruel,*"_ she murmured softly, fighting back a giggle.

"Cruel?  No way; it'll build character.  In fact, I think we'll be able to hear it BEING built in just a second or two….."

"HEI-SAN, YOU FORGOT WARU AND THE OTHERS!!!  HERE, CATCH!!!"

**_"GAAAAAAAHHHH!!!_****"******

The light impact of a water-filled (and fortunately sturdy) bag full of fish on a magician's hands and chest was drowned out by his involuntary yell of horror.  Conan and Rin looked at each other for a moment, trying to remain relatively serious… which lasted all of maybe three seconds.  Falling over each other in hysterical, gut-wrenching, ribs-aching laughter, the two faux gradeschoolers waited for Ayumi before staggering down the alleyway towards home, wiping at their eyes as they went.

***************************************************************************************************

It was much later that afternoon when a horrified Kuroba Kaito discovered that the snack Aoko had so unwillingly picked up consisted of a half-dozen taiyaki.  This discovery predated her chasing him through his own house while waving one by only a minute or two, but upon barricading himself in the bathroom, Kaito discovered something else:  that he had company…

… rather _finny_ company, actually, residing in a makeshift glass-vase-turned-fishbowl sitting neatly in the bathroom sink.

Revenge was sweet.

"Aoooookoooooo….. c'mon, let me OUT!!  I don't *wanna* be stuck in here with these f-fish and everything!!  C'MON, Aoko!  Please?  Look, I'm really, really, _really sorry about the note I stuck on your back, and the skirt-flipping, and—and anything else you come up with!  I swear it!  Just lemmee out, pretty please?"_

"No."  The Inspector's daughter crossed her arms stubbornly and glared up at the bathroom door over one shoulder (she was sitting crosslegged outside in the hall, her back against the door just in case Kaito tried to slip out).  "You're staying IN there until you deal with this stupid fear of yours."  Grumble, grumble.  "Just remember this the next time you decide to flip my skirt, okay?  I can come up with worse things.  And what if your next target's shaped like a fish?  What if you get stuck in jail and they feed you nothing but taiyaki?  What if you fall in the ocean?"

"I've fallen in the ocean before; I managed okay then—so let me out, okay?  I'll be FINE about the fish; I can deal with 'em—me and f-fish are okay, we're buds, we're—"

"NO."

_**whiiiiine…**_

"……….. Look, Kaito, I am *not* going to let you out until you manage to scoop one of those fish right out of its bowl with your hand.  And don't TELL me you're doing it when you're not—I know you well enough to tell when you're faking."

"You didn't know it when I was dressed up as the Pantyhose Girl….."

"That's a _low blow,_ Kaito—"

"—but true—"

"—and it's NOT going to make me let you out any *sooner,* either.  And don't even THINK about going out your window; you could do it in a heartbeat and I KNOW you could, but if you do I—I'll go out with Hakuba-kun.  On a _date."_

"………………. you wouldn't."

_"Try me."_

"………………. you WOULD."

"Mmmhmm.  And you'd better hurry up, too, or my dad'll be calling to find out why I'm not home fixing dinner.  And if he does, I'll tell him Hakuba-kun found out that the Kid's afraid of *fish* and he'll make your life a living hell--"

"Aoooookooooooo…..  _*PLEASE*_ let me out?  Please?  They, they're SPLASHING…"

"NO.  Get busy!"

_**whimper…**_  There was a series of mysterious sloshing sounds and heavy breathing from behind the closed door; Nakamori Aoko pressed one ear against the wood just below the doorknob.  

Was he actually--?  "Kaito?"

_**splish, splash**  "_……..O-okay, I'm reaching in…..  _Geeeeehhhhh_!!!  I touched one!  FISH GERMS!!"__

"Kaitoooooo, STOP fooling around and just do it, will you?  Just reach in, scoop one up, hold it in your palm for a couple of seconds and put it back into the bowl!  Stop being such a—a baby!  _***Hakuba***_ could do it—"

"…………… that was mean, Aoko………….."

She ground her teeth.  "DO.  IT."

More mysterious splashings, a deep breath, and a sudden _**splish!** _

"I GOT ONE!!  I GOT ONE!!  I GOT—"

_**ploop!**_

"……oops…….  Uh, heh heh, Aoko, you'll _never_ guess what just happened….."

She had a sinking feeling.  "Kaito—"  There was a long silence from inside the bathroom as one rather traumatized Phantom Thief considered his situation.  "If you did what I *THINK* you did, fish it _out._  Fish it _out,_ Kaito—"

"No way."

"KaiTOOOO—"

Defensively:  "I did what you said, I picked the damned thing up—is it my fault it flipped right out of my hand?"  A pause, and then, brightly:  "But hang on just a sec; I know JUST what to do—"

Outside the door, Aoko stiffened; she had a bad feeling about this.

**_**flushhhhh…**_******

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!  Kaito, you _didn't!!!"  With a horrified screech, the Inspector's daughter scrambled to her feet and unlocked the door, tearing it open…_

**_**zoooooom!**_**

…and just missing being run over as Kaito zipped past her, heading down the hall as fast as he could go.  Aoko took a brief second to see that there were indeed _four goldfish_ still swimming around the improvised fishbowl and that none of them had actually received an early burial-at-sea via plumbing.

**"KaaaiiiIIIIITOOOOOOO!!!"******

***************************************************************************************************

And a little later on, at the residence of one Yoshida Ayumi, a small girl (who was not nearly as unobservant as some people would like to believe) sat peering closely into her bureau mirror.  Seeing nothing unusual, she switched off the light and tilted her head a little sideways to allow the dim glow from her balcony doors to reflect off her eyes—

_"Oooooooh….._  That's…..that's… NEAT.  I've got EYE-glows!  Wait'll I show Hei-san!"

***************************************************************************************************

The next few days were full of many things; details were ironed out, twinges of conscience were soothed, a certain Saguru Hakuba was grinned at by Kaito and rather guiltily avoided by Aoko, and the son of Kuroba Toichi spent a fair amount of time staring at the night-side of his father's portrait as he tinkered with the Kid's equipment in a frenzy of last-minute checks.

On Monday night, Kaito slipped back through the hidden door from his workroom one last time before going upstairs to bed.  Briefly, in a gesture that had moved from absentminded habit to what was very nearly a sacred ritual, he brushed the edge of his father's portrait one last time with the tip of a finger.

"Wish me luck, Tousan.  Wish US luck."

The portrait seemed almost to smile.

……………And then—_finally_—it was the morning of Tuesday, October 29th and the day of the heist…..

***************************************************************************************************

**_Ysabet's_****_ Notes:_**_  Wheeeew.  LONG chapter—I utterly refuse to look at the word count, nope, nope, nope.  My deepest apologies for making everyone wait so long; Real Life and a few other anime series got in the way, plus work, work, and even a little work.  I had planned on the heist starting by the end of the chapter, but I think it'll make a better opening, just like I did with the last one._

_Okay!  Forward into the breach!  Chaaaaaaaarge!  Oh, and to those who are unfamiliar with them, Taiyaki are those cute little fish-shaped things with the fillings that are baked up and sold from Japanese carts.  Not something I suspect that Kaito would care much for….._


	15. Pass or Fail, Part One

**_Chapter 15:  Pass Or Fail  (Part One)_******

Kuroba Kaito was in deep, deep trouble.

Not that this was particularly unusual… but most of the time he had managed to sidestep, avoid, defuse and/or otherwise get away with not having to pay the consequences of the pranks and practical jokes he pulled while in school.

_*This*_ time, though…

Most of the little tricks he pulled on his fellow students were mild enough to be considered fairly harmless to both property and person (although there had been a few outcries about the infamous 'fake tattoo' prank, except for those select few who had actually _wanted_ to go through life brandishing a flaming torch and a scroll reading "Welcome Fifth Fleet" on the backs of their necks), but occasionally he went a bit overboard.  Or more than a bit.  _Considerably_ more than a bit, now and then.

This morning's little joke, for instance…

Admittedly, filling random lockers throughout the school with a harmless, stainless, brilliant purple Jell-O-like substance had been perhaps a *tad* much.  And putting significant quantities of the same stuff inside certain students' backpacks while they weren't looking (it was really amazing how quickly the 'Jell-O' congealed when you looked at it from a scientific standpoint) might have been a tad over the top.

_Completely filling the Principal's car_ had definitely been above and beyond the bounds of 'acceptable,' apparently.  Not that he hadn't *known* that when he did it; it was all part of the plan.

_*The things I do to get out of school.*_  Kaito smothered a grimace and did his best to look nervous as the door to the principal's office opened and an aide called his name.  _*Guess it's time to face the music—and if I hadn't written the score, hired the musicians and conducted the damned thing myself I'd be really pissed, but—ahhh hell.  I *HAVE* to be off for a few days.  It's just that I really, really hate to do it like this…..*_

_*So much for my pristine school record.  Heh; Mom's gonna have a FIT.  Suspension, here I come.*_

He could see the red-faced principal just beyond the aide; the man was on his way to heart attack or stroke if he didn't calm down.  _*People stress out about the smallest things WAY too much,*_ thought the magician mildly as the hangdog-looking aide ushered him in.  _*They should really learn to relax more.*_

The door closed behind him.****

*** * * * * * * * * * * * ***

"… and I can't think of a _single reason_ why I shouldn't suspend you immediately, Kuroba, no matter what your scholastic record looks like!  This is the kind of reprehensible behavior that keeps a young man from advancement later on in life—"

_*Blahblah, blahblah, blahblah.  Couldn't agree with you more, sir.  Now get to the suspension part, okay?  A week's probably too much to hope for, but three days or so should be enough, plus cleaning up the goop.  Hm; maybe I should've done something a little more permanent?*_  Kaito barely managed to hold back a yawn as the angry man continued to rant.  He shifted a little, trying to find a more comfortable position (the chairs had apparently been designed by Torquemada) and felt a twinge of conscience trying to make itself known over the damaged car… not to mention his damaged school record.  _*Stop it,*_ he ordered himself sternly, and stomped on the twinge with both metaphorical feet; this was necessary, dammit, even if it WAS embarrassing.

"—the only reason why you HAVEN'T been suspended in the past was that you targeted fellow students who were too good-natured to file complaints—"

_*Maybe, though I think a lot of 'em didn't mind all that much; I've heard them talking about being 'Kaito'd' afterwards.  And even the ones I picked on this time didn't make a fuss—I mean, the stuff was totally non-toxic, didn't make so much a mark on paper, cloth or anything else, peeled away easily and so forth.  Even Hakuba wouldn't have complained too much if he were here… You know, he's been a lot quieter since the blue paint thing the other day, a lot quieter; wonder if I should be worried?  And… I wonder if I could use the Jell-O against Nakamori and Company?  Maybe if I made it a bit stickier—*_

"—performance levels have gone _up_ rather than down over the past year, I admit, but this attitude of yours won't get you very far in life—"

_*Oh, you'd be surprised...  It's gotten me onto the Top Ten Most Wanted International Criminals list…  Sometimes I think one of the reasons that Hakuba stays so damned mad at me is because there's not a Top Ten Best Snarky Up-And-Coming Detectives list somewhere for his name to be featured on.  Recognition: it's the doggy-treat of the human race.*_

"—and FURTHERmore—  boy, are you even _listening_ to me?!?" demanded the furious principal, winding his tirade up.

"Er, yessir.  Sorry sir."

The man sat back in his chair, beginning to calm slightly.  Principal Oryosuru was not an unreasonable man, and as the head of a school in which Kuroba Kaito resided he had had to deal with much odder things than harmless purple Jell-O.  Not, however, in his precious, lovingly-restored 1967 Austin Healy 3000.

"I see no reason to stretch this out any further," he said heavily.  "Based on your previous record, I suppose that I _could_ afford you a little leniency, since this is the first time any true property-damage has been done—"

_*Oh CRAP.  He's not gonna let me off, is he?!?  I KNEW I should've done something more original--*_

"—but I am convinced that treating this lightly would not be doing you a favor in the future.  Therefore…" and the principal ground his teeth, "… I am suspending you from your classes for the remainder of the week—"

**_*Whew.*_**

"—the school-hours of which are to be spent in Study Hall—"

**_*WHAT?!?_**_  Oh **SHIT!***_

"—in accordance to the new policies laid down at the last Departmental Conference."  He scowled at the unhappy student before him.  "Personally, I'd rather see you under house-arrest in your own home, but rules are rules, boy, and that's that."  Principal Oryosuru gathered the paperwork in front of him, shuffling and stacking it absentmindedly.  "So you'll be reporting directly to the Study Hall in building A-434 as soon as you leave this office.  Understand me, Kuroba?  No side-trips, no excursions to your locker, no calls home—"

"But—but—"

"—and no buts!!"  The principal's face darkened again as he remembered the purpleness that had greeted him when he had looked down on the staff parking-lot from his office window an hour before.  "You should count yourself lucky to get off so lightly--

"I couldn't agree with you more, Oryosuru-san."  The door swung open, making both student and official jump as the woman speaking walked in.  "Please excuse the intrusion," Kuroba Toichi's widow pleaded apologetically, "but when I heard what had happened…  Oh Kaito, how COULD you?!?"  She covered her face with both hands and sank into one of the awful office chairs.  "I'm so humiliated!"

"Sir, I *tried* to stop her—"  That was the aide, wringing her hands.

"Uh—Kuroba Hikarue?  Kuroba's mother?"  And that was the principal, doing his best to unfluster.

"MOM?!?  What are YOU doing here?!?"  _*Aaaack!  She's not even supposed to be in town—*_

Kuroba Hikarue raised her head to stare down her son in apparent fury mixed with embarrassment as the principal looked on uncomfortably.  "Bailing you out," she snapped.

*** * * * * * * * * * * * ***

"—and I'm sure that *everyone* would certainly benefit more from Kaito's being sent home rather than sitting there, hour after hour, bored to tears and thinking up new things to do to liven up Study Hall.  Don't you agree?"  Kuroba Hikarue dabbed at her eyes and looked imploringly at the principal.  "He's…_ difficult_… when he's bored, you know.  _Very_ difficult."

The principal shifted uneasily behind his desk.  He remembered all too well the last time Kuroba had ended up proclaiming that he was bored—it had involved quite a large number of live chickens, the school marching band, an unplanned (but well-organized) fire drill and what seemed to be a completely valid permit to hold a parade on the street in front of the high school.  The episode showed up as a regular feature of Oryosuru's bad dreams; he shuddered.  "I suppose…"

Kuroba, meantime, sat watching his mother with all the air of a bug who had a _wonderful_ view of an oncoming windshield.  His eyes were remarkably wide, there was a trace of sweat on his forehead, and he looked… rattled.  In _fact,_ decided the principal (with perhaps a little more glee than was proper) he looked like somebody who might actually *benefit* from a week-long stay at home under a mother's eagle eye.

"I have a list of things that need to be attended to—some plumbing problems in the kitchen, the bathroom needs repainting, the steps and railing out back could use sanding down and refinishing, we could do with new insulation in the attic... that sort of thing.  I'm certain I'll be able to think of enough tasks to keep him quite, quite busy for a week, and if I don't—well, we *do* have neighbors, and I won't hesitate to lend him out."  Kaito winced.  "And then there's your poor car, of course; I'm having that _professionally_ done, and he—" (she shot her erring son a Look and he winced again) "—will of course be paying for that out of his *own* pockets."

"Ow."

Oryosuru-san harrumphed.  "Stay out of this, boy.  Mmmm… well, in that case….." hedged the principal, "…I suppose that an in-home suspension might be more *appropriate*… and the new rules don't really take effect until November 1st, so… hrmm.  I suppose."  He glared at the teenager, somewhat mollified.  "I'll expect a daily progress report on the tasks you've accomplished for your mother—a little hard work will do you good, Kuroba!"

"Eeep.  Yessir."  Kaito dared a sideways glance at his mother and then hastily swiveled his gaze back frontwards.  "I understand, sir."_ *And thank you, sir, may I have another?  Jeeeeeeze….. hard work, huh?  He has NO idea.  Let's see HIM try and hang-glide, dodge cops, steal the target and keep a white tux clean all at the same time.  I wonder if that qualifies as masochism or just general all-purpose craziness?*_

"Don't worry, Oryosuru-san.  I can assure you, he has quite a schedule waiting for him, and it will begin _immediately_."  Kuroba Hikarue bowed politely, wearing an expression that combined just the proper amounts of distress, embarrassment and determination—really, thought her son, he couldn't have done better himself.  _*And she'll make me DO all that stuff, too—assuming I survive tonight's heist, that is.  Oh, and the trip home in the car with Mom; she's not really in what I'd call a good mood just now…*_

They made the appropriate farewells (conciliatory on Mom's part, chastened-and-ever-so-slightly-defiant on Kaito's) and closed the door behind them, leaving the principal staring morosely out the window at his enjello'd Austin Healy.  The teenager kept his head down and trailed along behind quietly, resulting in a near-collision when the woman in front of him stopped abruptly.  "Aoko-chan?  Ah, you're ready to go, then?  Good."

_*Aoko?*_  Kaito peered over his mother's head.  _*So she DID do it!  Way to go, Aoko!*_

Nakamori Aoko sat on the school office's couch, looking more than a little flushed and miserable.  Her eyes were watering, her nose was red, and to all appearances she was suffering the effects of the recent damp weather combined with a nasty cold.  Kaito eyed her with what could only be called professional appraisal; the night before he had supplied her with a small vial of a concoction which his father's notes guaranteed would bring about a rapid descent into sniffles, nasal congestion and fever… for roughly two hours and no more.  

_*Cool.  Wasn't sure if that 'heal-things-quick' stuff that we seem to have picked up would even allow Dad's goop to work, but I guess that since it didn't really make her sick, it was okay.  Poor Aoko, though-- bet she feels like crap.  Even Hakuba couldn't argue with this; she looks like the 'before' part of a cough-syrup commercial.  Not that Hakuba's even HERE to be suspicious, but--*_  The Would-Be Sherlock Holmes had managed to wrangle a 'special circumstances' absence courtesy of a suspiciously well-timed visit from his father.  _*As if.  The slacker's waiting for me up there in Kyoto.  Well, it's not like I didn't expect him to be.*_

Kaito sat down beside Aoko, stretching his lanky limbs out in a sprawl as his mother busied herself with the paperwork that her erring son had made necessary.  "Sick, huh?  I take it we're giving you a ride home?"  Rather theatrically her classmate scooted away until he was balancing on the very edge of the seat.  "Don't breath on meeee…"  The Inspector's daughter gave him a dirty look as she blew her nose.

"Dis ib YOUR fault—" she muttered beneath her breath.  "And ib bedder go away _really fast_ or—"  She sniffled again, groping in one pocket for another tissue.

"Allow me," said the magician gallantly, producing a violently purple silk hankie out of nowhere.  He blinked at the color, slightly bemused; apparently today's theme was purple.

"Thengew."  _**sniffle-whooonk!**  _"Did you ged suspedded?"

He leaned back, a grimace on his face.  "Mmmhm.  Tell you about it in the car.  Is there anything you need to pick up before we take you home and tuck you into bed?"  Receiving a rather soggy negative from the depths of the purple silk hankie, Kaito clasped his hands behind his head and settled back to wait for his mother to finish.

_*They say that no job's complete until the paperwork is done.  I sure didn't expect Mom to show up—oh GOD, please please please tell me that Auntie Makoto's not with her, pleasepleaseplease.  Not now.  Love her lots and all that, but I can only take her in small doses and I have a freaking HEIST to do tonight, anyw—oh.  No, Mom wouldn't do that—she reads the paper, and I assume she's been staying in touch with Jii; why else would she show up to save my bacon like that?*_

_*…unless she's in trouble…*_

The young thief managed to keep his questions and concerns hidden until the three reached the parking lot, where he paused with all antennae up.  "That's not your car," he muttered, balking slightly.

"No," his mother agreed calmly.  "Kaito?  Do you remember when you called me at your Aunt's the first time?  And I—"

He could see an indistinct figure through the darkened glass; an awful thought assailed him despite his previous convictions.  "Mom, you _DIDN'T_ bring Auntie Makoto with you, did you?"  Beside him Aoko sneezed.

"Kaito, please…"  She looked pained.  "As much as I dearly love 'Koto-chan, there is nothing on earth that would persuade me to get her mixed up in all this.  Although," added Kuroba Hikarue darkly, "you wouldn't believe the horrible lies I had to tell her to keep her from coming along.  She thinks that our basement flooded in this last rain—I told her you called me this morning and said so."  Kaito's daily phone calls to his mom, brief as they were, had been a welcome measure of stability through the past stressful weeks.

_*If Aunt Makoto ever finds out about this, I'm toast.  Jail would be preferable to one of her hour-long lectures.*_   "Sorry…  How'd you know I needed you to save me like this, by the way?  I hadn't a _clue_ about any new 'Study Hall' regs—when did _that _happen?  And whose car is that, then, if it's not hers?"  

Beside him Aoko sniffled into her handkerchief.  "Kaito, if you just _lissend_ to de announcements in de mornig, you'd *know* aboud stuff like dis."  Another _**whooonk!!**_ and she went on, her voice a little clearer.  "I remembered what you said about getting suspended and TRIED to call you before you left, but you were up too early—I missed you.  So I called your mom's cellphone, and she said she was already on the _**sniffle**_ way here.  _**Atchoo!**"_

"Oh; okay.  But—WHY were you on your way here?  Mom, has there been any trouble?"  They were nearly to the car now, and Kaito peered at the front seat.  _*No, not Auntie, thank God.   Is that… Jii?  Good, he can help clear things up.  Thought he had already left for Kyoto, though.*_

His mother reached for the door-handle, not quite meeting his eyes.  Kuroba Hikarue was a calm-faced, still-pretty woman; her son had gotten his looks and build from his father, but many of his mannerisms and expressions came straight from his mother.  And (as he well knew) she had her own version of the Poker Face; she had used it on him enough times while playing Go.  "Not trouble exactly… not quite.  Just—it *could* have been trouble, so… I came back."  

She hesitated before saying anything else, and her son stopped in his tracks with one hand reaching for but not quite touching the door.  "Mom?"  Kuroba Hikarue glanced up a little guiltily.  "Mom," Kaito said carefully, "just *what* happened to bring you back to Tokyo without telling me?  Details, please?  I need to know before we go anywhere—"

With a sudden _**brrrrrrrrrm-m-m-m!** _sound that made all three jump, the electric car-window nearest Kaito suddenly rolled down.  "As to that, young Master Kuroba—" said the man inside the car, who was most emphatically NOT Jii no matter how much he resembled him, "I'm afraid that **_*I*_** happened.  Although perhaps _'we'_ would be more appropriate, though Kuehiko-sama is not here with me just now.  Please allow me to introduce myself; my name is Shunme."  And he bowed as best he could from the car-seat—

--only to raise one eyebrow at the small white ovoid that had appeared almost instantly in Kaito's hand; the tiny dart-tip glittered in the aperture at the front, aimed quite steadily at his face.  Behind Kaito Aoko made a small squeak of alarm.  "A new weapon, I see…  Airborne needles?  Bearing some sort of anesthetic, no doubt?  Clever."  The grey-haired man broke into a familiar, mustachioed smile.  "Jii-niisan always *did* say that you were remarkably innovative.  What sort of range are you getting?" he asked quite interestedly, just as though he were not a mere finger-pressure away from sudden sleep.

_*Jii… niisan?!?*_  "Ahh—about three meters at best, though it pulls left if you go past two," answered the young thief distractedly; he yanked his scattered thoughts back together with a sharp jerk.  "'Jii-_niisan?'_  Riiiiiight….. okay, NOTgoing anywhere just yet.  Mom?  Is there something you'd like to tell me about?" he asked rather desperately.

Kuroba Toichi's widow sighed, pushing back a strand of hair that was beginning to straggle down onto her forehead; what with one thing or another, she was beginning to look a little tired.  "Kaito, I think it's time you met your uncle."

****************************************************************************

"Five times three is—"  The teacher looked expectantly at her class.

"FIFTEEN!" they chorused in response.__

_*Dear God, please get me OUT of here.*_   Edogawa Conan nearly bit his pencil in half; he had recently developed a nervous habit of chewing on the wood.

"And five times four is--?"

"TWENTY!!"

"Good!"

_**Aaaargh.  I wonder if he's left for Kyoto yet?*_   Beside him, Himitsu Rin fidgeted; _she_ wanted to be elsewhere as well.  Conan continued to gnaw on his pencil.

"Five times FIVE is—"

"TWENTY-FIIIIIVE!!"

_*He's probably already there.  He's probably holed up in some right-under-their-noses hideout, watching the police tighten security around the gardens like it'll actually do some good.  Got to give Nakamori-san credit, though; from what I've managed to gather from his computer files, he actually managed to figure out the riddle pretty well… mostly.  He got the location and the time right—his department did anyway, they did most of the research—but he hasn't figured out which statue's being targeted, much less which gem.  Or if he did, he didn't write it down.*_

A warning foot from beside him kicked the boy's ankle, trying to get his attention; Conan ignored it and switched his pencil to the other corner of his mouth.  _**crunch, crunch**_

_*If Nakamori-san comes in with his full squad and does his usual Scream-And-Leap tactics, there'll be casualties; I'm sure of it.  If he pays attention to the Kid's other little note, the one Kuroba told me about last night, it may not be as bad.  But it's going to be rough, no matter what.*_

_*And I'm STUCK here like a, like a useless little boy--*_

"Conan-kun?  Conan?"  

The teacher's voice abruptly pulled him from his increasingly-bitter reverie; he dropped the pencil.  To make matters worse, she had that _tone_ that people got when they had repeated themselves several times.  He looked up.  "Um?"  Frantically he scrambled around in his memory and produced a number as he stood:  "Thirty?"

She shook her head reprovingly.  "Since you seem to have something else on your mind besides multiplication, Conan-kun, why don't you recite the rest on your own?"

"The rest?"  He blinked.  "How far would you like me to go?"

His teacher looked at him a little uncertainly, then rallied into her I-Am-Teacher-Hear-Me-Roar mode and smiled down at her student.  She was a substitute, just there for a few days while their actual teacher was out with a bad case of what was acting like flu but which (Ran had confided to Conan) was more likely the onset of morning-sickness.  But nonetheless, Substitute-Teacher was therefore sadly unfamiliar with the most notorious student in her class.  "Why don't you just keep going until I tell you to stop?" she suggested with a somewhat complacent smile.  Around her, eyes widened and a few of Conan's classmates nudged each other in anticipation.

"Yes, Sensei…  Five times six is thirty.  Five times seven is thirty-five.  Five times eight is forty.  Five times nine is forty-five.  Five times ten is fifty."  The boy's voice was bored but quite polite; Substitute-Teacher frowned to herself, sensing something a little _off;_ this wasn't how it was supposed to go. 

Rin rolled her eyes.

"Five times eleven is fifty-five.  Five times twelve is sixty.  Five times thirteen is sixty-five.  Five times fourteen is seventy.  Five times fifteen is seventy-five.  Five times sixteen is eighty.  Five times seventeen is eighty-five.  Five times eighteen is—"

"—that's, um, _enough,_ Conan-kun… you may sit down now."

He remained standing; behind him, Ai yawned and looked out the window.  "—ninety.  Five times nineteen is ninety-five.  Five times twenty is—  Are you sure, Sensei?  I can keep going…"  There was much grinning among his classmates, who _were_ familiar with Conan-kun's little quirks.

"No, no… that's—fine.  Just fine.  I, err—why don't we go on to something else?" Substitute-Teacher suggested brightly as he sat down.  

_*Hah; that should settle THAT.  She wouldn't call on me now if everyone else in the class came down with laryngitis.  Okay, back to the subject…..  I'm stuck here, Kuroba's up in Kyoto preparing to commit an illegal act and then face down our mutual enemies, and I can't do a single goddamn *thing* about any of it.  Except sit here and steam, that is.  And brood.  And give myself a really painful ulcer.*_

_*Shit.*_

_*What if things go wrong?  What if Kuroba gets shot down?  What if the Black Organization turns out in force and decides to forget about being stealthy for once?  Why are they after the stupid Pandora Gem anyway?  They don't actually BELIEVE in the legends he told me about, do they?  Don't be stupid, Kudo—all it takes is one person at the top to believe; if he has enough power, it doesn't matter one good goddamn as to whether or not his lackeys believe, they'll just follow orders.*_

_*I should be there.  I should BE there.  And instead, I'm—*_

There was another warning-kick at his ankle, and *this* time Conan looked up, straight into Himitsu Rin's worried face.

_*--instead, I'm sitting here beside somebody who gave up almost everything to stay with me.  I can't be in Kyoto, for what I admit are good reasons; so the least I can do is stop brooding before I have a stroke or something.  If I end up in the hospital from stress, Ran'll kill me anyway and I can't say I blame her._*  The Detective of the East mentally knuckled himself on top of the head.  _*Stop being such a moron, Kudo, and do what you ARE capable of doing:  get through the day and get home, and then call Heiji.  He'll be there; you can count on that.*_

Edogawa Conan sighed, remembering the previous afternoon…..

* * *

_He had been out with his skateboard, trying to ease some of the tension that was knotting the tendons in his neck into one big bow.  Rin had threatened him with a near-death experience if he came inside in less than an hour (she had been distinctly in Ran-neechan Mode) and so he had taken the board down to one of the places a certain Kudo Shinichi had frequented as a child:  the Yon-Hori._

_It didn't *really* have a name, of course; the small streams and ditches of Tokyo were just conduits for runoffs and rainwater mostly, not nearly large enough to be distinguished by an official designation.  But *this* one was a bit wider and deeper than most, and somewhere along the line it had acquired a name:  the Yon-Hori, the Fourth Canal.  Nobody knew why or where the other three canals were, but the Fourth Canal it had always been and probably would always be, at least to the locals._

_Most kids mess about with any waterways they can find; it's just something they do.  And as always, the City Water and Street Works of Tokyo had sheathed the banks of the Yon-Hori with slick concrete, creating wide, slanted surfaces that ran right down to the water's edge.  A young Kudo Shinichi had been rather disgusted to see the grass verges disappear, but he had had to admit that the pavements made GREAT skateboarding ramps and fun places to do daring things on your bike.  The water wasn't too deep to get out of, and if you fell in occasionally, well, that was part of its charm._

_Edogawa Conan thought so too.  And if you followed one of the side-streets behind the Nakamori's building, it took you straight to a less-populated area of warehouses and storage facilities, bland and more or less ignored.  GOOD skateboarding territory, especially if you didn't really want people wondering how an eight-year-old kid managed to get up enough speed to cross the three-meter-wide canal without using a bridge….._

_It was the landings that were hard, not the takeoffs.  And when he had been halfway across and seen the teenage girl sitting on the bank watching (and he could have sworn that no-one had been there a moment before), he had nearly put himself into the water._

_"AAAACK!!! LOOKOUT—"_

_She had snagged his negligible weight right out of the air, snatching him as neatly as a dog would grab a Frisbee; his much-abused skateboard had continued on in its trajectory to the grass just above and beyond the concrete.  "WHOOF!!!  Are you alright?  I'm so sorry, but I was watching you and I didn't realize you were going to land there--"_

_Staggering as he regained his footing, the dazed boy had stared up at his landing-pad-turned-rescuer.  A straggly black ponytail tumbled from beneath a somewhat battered purple bicycle-helmet; dark brown, long-lashed eyes peered back at him in alarm.  "Na, you didn't get hurt, did you, Conan-kun?  Here, let's get your skateboard--" and she had dragged him up past the rest of the concrete and onto the grass, where he had sat dazedly down._

_It was about then that it occurred to him that she had called him by name._

_"Urk?"  Still a little dazed, he had goggled as she knelt down to check over his skateboard before his brain re-engaged.  "Uh, wait--"_

_"It looks fine to me; you know, I've been *wanting* to get a look at this—how fast does it go?" she had asked curiously, turning the board over to check its underside.  "The turbos don't look all THAT powerful, but I've heard that Professor Agasa's a real genius for putting a lot of bang into his gadgets."  She poked at one of the solar collectors, shaking her head admiringly.  "Would he be willing to do any freelance work, do you think, Conan-kun?"_

_"Uhhh…"  No good; the shock of his interrupted flight and the girl's chatter had pretty much made things go blank.  "Do I… *know* you?"_

_And she had looked up again and given him the HUGEST smile, all white teeth and happy, flashing eyes.  "Bingo!  You do.  Now:  any idea who I am, chibi?"_

_Totally perplexed (a state that was rare for the Detective of the East, even when half-stunned), he sat back and… thought.  Hard._

_Scuffed jeans; slightly dirty tennishoes with newer lavender laces.  A blue t-shirt with a flower pattern, half-hidden under an overlong oatmeal-colored knit sweater like you'd find anywhere.  Purple bike-helmet, well worn; bike-gloves, a mend on the left palm.  Accent?  Straight out of Kyoto, as thick as Heiji's Osaka-bin with a slight overlay of something southerly, middle-class so far as he could tell.  Interesting.  No unusual scents, no odd stains or… wait.  One word—_

_*'Bingo'?  And a Kyoto accent??  And—tomorrow in Kyoto--*_

_"………. **Kuroba?**  .........It IS you."  Conan sat back on his heels, somewhat appalled.  "You have *got* to be kidding."_

_The girl had smiled down at him prettily, pushing 'her' helmet back with a bike-gloved hand.  "Call me Sayaka; I'm borrowing the name from a friend.  And as for my being kidding, well, only when I'm working nights….. 'Kid-ing', that is.  Pretty quick on the draw, aren't you, Conan-kun?" she had giggled._

_"WHAT are you doing here like, like… THAT?" he had sputtered, snatching back his board and checking it automatically for bugs, homing devices, and anything else that might have been added._

_"Oh, and like *you've* never disguised yourself as a girl?  'Yumi-chan, for instance?  She told me about that time you two switched places when those guys were chasing you down at the train-station."  'Sayaka' had tossed her pony-tail.  "I'll bet you were pretty good at it too.  And as for what I'm doing here like this… I'm playing it safe."  Dark brown eyes (contact-lenses, they had to be) sobered slightly.  "I'm under surveillance, remember?  It's a good thing I know quite a few ways to leave my house unnoticed… but I didn't want to take any chances, so Kuroba Kaito's currently at home watching TV.  And me?  Who pays much attention to just one more teenage girl on a bike?  Though," Sayaka added with a smirk, "if it wasn't so cold out I'd be a lot more noticeable; I've been told on pretty good authority that I have nice legs, and there's this red skirt I picked up that'd go GREAT with--"_

_"Okay, okay!  I believe you!" Trying to shut out the visions that were passing in front of his eyes, Conan had rapidly closed them for a moment.  The 'girl' had snickered.  "I take it you're here about tomorrow's plans?"_

_"Sure am, Conan-kun!"  Sayaka had sounded perky enough to make a person's teeth hurt and the boy had flinched.  With another (and definitely sadistic, in Kudo Shinichi's viewpoint anyway) giggle, his companion had settled cross-legged on the grass beside him.  "Let me bring you up to date….."_

_Quickly she had outlined the next day's plans, beginning with a method of getting out of classes that he could only admire despite the drawback of being suspended.  "Won't your mom object?" he had asked curiously._

_"Oh, she'll tear me a new one—but, well, sacrifices and all that."  Sayaka had sighed once before plunging back into the subject.  Nakamori Aoko would also be going to Kyoto; when Conan had objected, the 'girl' had given him a somewhat harassed look.  "Would your Rin-kun stay behind if YOU told her to be a good girl and wait for you to come home, hm?  No, I didn't think so."  The disguised thief had skipped through the steps of the heist with a practiced ease that told of more than just the past year or two's experience; she had touched lightly on the actual details of the crime and had paid far more attention to strategies and plans to get the real villains of the piece to reveal themselves._

_It had been enthralling, in a very strange sort of way.  Kudo Shinichi had had the chance to watch this particular artist (and he WAS an artist of his kind) work from the outside before, and now he was seeing him from a much closer viewpoint.  And Shinichi could always appreciate brilliance.  If he could just manage to put aside thoughts like 'illegal', that is…_

_Easier said than done, but nobody had ever said that this would be easy._

_Surprisingly enough, it hadn't taken long to go over the plans.  Some things were definites, some were changeable… and, as Sayaka had said airily, no plan of attack ever completely made it through its first engagement with the enemy intact.  "Where'd you get that, from a fortune cookie?" Conan had asked wryly._

_"No;" Sayaka had smiled a smug little smile and had batted her eyes prettily at the boy, who had choked.  "From Nakamori-san's files on his laptop computer.  Do you know, he still uses his daughter's birthday as a password?  AND he thinks it's SECURE?   Some people should just stick to pocket-calculators."_

_"He uses his own birth-date for his database at work, too," Conan had answered absentmindedly, fiddling with one of the wheels on his skateboard; it seemed to be a little loose._

_There was a delighted silence.  "What?"  The boy had looked up into Sayaka's grinning face.  Belatedly he realized just what he had admitted.  "Uh—"_

_"Coooooonan-kun… have YOU been hacking into the Inspector's files?"  If the disguised thief had grinned any wider he would have required hospitalization.  "Have you *really*?  Tsk… tsk… tsk..…  Well, what do you know?  Maybe there's hope for you after all!"_

_A beet-red Kudo Shinichi opened his mouth to verbally slay the reprobate in front of him… and instead found himself sputtering and trying to hold back something entirely unexpected.  The thief continued to grin, leaning back onto her hands on the grass.  "Oh, go ahead and laugh; it's good for you, or so they say, and if *anybody* ever needed to unclench a little—"_

_"I… am… NOT… laughing                !" he gritted out.  "And I was NOT hacking into his files, I was—"_

_"…yeeeeees?"  _

_"…………………."_

_"Lighten up, Kudo, it's not like I was accusing you of doing something ILLEGAL…  **snicker**…..Anyway, never mind.  Look—"  Sayaka's mood, as mercurial as ever, had darkened a little for a second.  "I've got every hope of this little caper coming off without a hitch, but you never know what sort of monkey-wrenches Fate'll decide to throw in at the last minute.  So…" and she had hesitated.  "So—I'm leaving a little something with Heiji-kun to take care of a loose end or two if things go really wrong.  *Dead* wrong, if you get my meaning."_

_"With—Heiji??  Where—"_

_Sayaka had leaned back a little further, stretching out 'her' denim-clad legs and crossing them at the ankles; she looked up at the late afternoon sky, expression calm.  "Oh, he won't *know* I'm leaving anything.  But ask him about the door to cold water if it turns out that you need to," she had said softly; "He'll know what you mean.  I'll be leaving a letter there explaining a little of why I've done the things I've done and a statement that Aoko had no knowledge of anything before the 29th."  The boy had given her a disbelieving look and she had shrugged.  "Hey, it's not a perfect solution but it's the best I can do.  Just in case, y'know."_

_The Detective of the East had been silent for a second or two.  "Just in case--?"  His eyes had held little humor; it had been all too easy to imagine the worst._

_"Yeah.  Just in case.  It's always good" and Sayaka had stretched long arms above 'her' head, joints popping, "to have a contingency plan."  She gave Conan an easy smile.  "And then, because we've planned for it, we can hope that 'just in case' never happens—"_

_For a few minutes they had both watched the water go by below in the Yon-Hori.  Conan studied the grass he sat on, noticing how tightly rooted the dead-appearing late autumn turf was, how fiercely it clung to the soil when his small fingers dug into it.  There was probably, he thought wryly, a moral lesson in that—something to do with endurance maybe, or persistence; but he was just a little too paranoid to take it seriously.  Sometimes grass was just grass.  And… sometimes people were just people, even when they were thieves._

_So he had said what he was thinking anyway… just in case.  "Kuroba… be careful, will you?"  And then he'd waited resignedly for the expected jibes and pokes.  This was, after all, an almost *irresistible* chance for teasing; detectives were not supposed to give a damn whether or not criminals got their asses shot off while performing illegal acts._

_Except that all that the thief had said was "No problem."_

_There wasn't much left to talk about after that.  But as Sayaka climbed back onto her bike (a scratched-up girl's model with a Shogun Knife decal on the frame), she glanced back inquiringly.  "Gonna stay in contact with Heiji-kun through the whole thing, right?"  When the boy winced, the apparent girl chuckled.  "It's what I'd expect you to do, y'know.  Good; hope you both enjoy the show!  Give him my best when you talk to him, okay?  And say hi from Aoko too."_

_Conan picked up his skateboard, turning one of the wheels with a finger.  "Don't you even *care* that we've been trying to catch you, Kuroba?  Doesn't it—I don't know, bother you—that we were your enemies?  We still *are,* so far as Heiji's concerned; he'd love nothing better than to lock you away after he wrecked his bike chasing after you…"_

_The thief in the young woman's likeness had shrugged 'her' shoulders.  "What would be the point?  Not to sound profound or anything, but we all do what we have to do.  I save my grudges for people who really deserve them… murderers, for instance."  And then she grinned Kaito Kuroba's grin, strongly leavened with a certain Phantom Thief's sharp, sideways smirk.  "And besides, what would I do without an audience?"_

_"…………….."_

_"Seeya in a day or two, Conan-kun.  And be careful yourself, okay?  Jaa!"_

_And he was left behind, holding his skateboard in both hands as he watched the figure on the bike recede into the distance._

* * *

At the front of the classroom, their Substitute Teacher and victim for the day nattered away about how she wanted everybody to work together on a big 'Welcome Back' poster for their real teacher; Conan listened with half an ear, his thoughts still off somewhere on the banks of the Yon-Hori.  _*He'd damn well better be careful.  What WILL he do if they catch him?  Clever or not, there's only so much you can do if you've been hit over the head—or shot.  I still can't figure out why he doesn't seem to be showing any aftereffects at *all* from the wounds he got at his last heist… which is odd, now that I think about it.  Not that anything the Kid does is normal, but—*_

_*Hmmmm… something to think about.  As if I didn't have enough on my mind...*_

They were getting up now, trooping over en masse like good little gradeschoolers to their Crafts Corner, which was currently decorated with a brightly-colored façade titled _'WHEN I GROW UP I WANT TO BE…'_  The multicolored wall mural featured paper cutouts of more or less people-shaped figures of doctors, firemen, astronauts, etc., all created by the kids.  Considering the topic and title, it had taken a lot of persuasion from Rin to keep the former Kudo Shinichi from 'arranging' for something awful to happen to it (he had considered everything from mysterious showers of tempera-paint to a deliberate setting off of the overhead sprinkler-system—construction paper ran something dreadful when wet, and the Kid wasn't the *only* person who knew how to rig machinery).  When at last persuaded otherwise ('Do it, Shinichi, and I'll tell Genta and Mitsuhiko that you sleep with a teddybear.  I'll claim that you wear Sailor Moon pajamas and have to have a nightlight on—I _mean_ it, Shinichi.'  Ran fought dirty.) he had taken out his frustration by constructing a rudely accurate Sleeping Kogoro figure, all slumped over in a chair with a bit of drool coming out of his mouth.  Rin had actually been somewhat amused.

*She* had made a vaguely adult-shaped picture of her old self.  When asked by Teacher what she wanted to be, she had just shrugged a little and said 'grown up; I'll figure out the rest when it happens.'

Right.

The usual brangle over He-ALWAYS-gets-the-best crayons and How-come-there-only-lefthand-scissors-in-the-scissors-can had already started; Conan busied himself hunting down the box of stick-on gold stars, which he knew would be used sooner or later.  Second-graders put gold stars on EVERYTHING, given a chance, especially their foreheads and the tips of each others' noses.  At the back of the area Rin was sorting through the pots of glue for one that hadn't dried up, and it looked like Ai had managed to slip past everybody to a spot where she could look on and offer advice as usual; she was really sneaky that way.

_*Okay, this isn't so bad, not really; it's a lot better than five-times-thirty-seven-is-etcetera, anyway.*_  He studiously began sorting out the stars by size, piling them in heaps on a table next to Ayumi (whose mural-image had been wearing a sort of magician's tuxedo crossed with a prom dress, pulling a rabbit out of a top-hat; the fact that the whole outfit had been *white* had alarmed Conan to no end).  _*Five more hours—no, make that four and three quarters—and we're out of here, and then I can call Heiji and listen in.  This will be… weird; I'll have to watch what I say.*_

Beside him, Ayumi carefully cut out a shape from the ever-present construction paper; from the looks of it, she was helping to write the welcome home message on the poster.  "Conan-kun, can I have some of the big stars?  They'll look pretty on here—"  He passed over a few, watching as she licked one and made a face at the taste.  "Eeeew."

"Well, it's not like they're made to be eaten," he pointed out, deftly fielding her elbow before she put it into the medium-sized pile.

"I know, but YUCK."  His classmate went on with sticking down stars, her expression absorbed.  "I bet they could make them taste better if they wanted to…"  She pushed back a tendril of dark brown hair and then frowned suddenly, glancing up.  "Coooonan-kun, Rin-kun's _swearing_ again—"

"??"  He twisted around in his chair; sure enough, the other faux gradeschooler had an annoyed look on her small face and was muttering under her breath as she attempted to remove a firmly glued-on lid.  "How'd you hear her all the way over here?" he wondered out loud; Ayumi just shrugged, licking another star.

_*Huh.*_

Abandoning his stars, he made his way over to the struggling girl and took the pot out of her hand.  "Here, this usually works—" and he deftly flipped it over and slammed the flat lid straight down _**POCK!**_ onto the floor.  A second or two of twisting broke the seal, and Conan handed it over.  "You need to jar it loose if it's something sticky—my mom taught me that trick.  And STOP swearing."

Rin blinked, accepting the glue-pot.  "How'd you—  I wasn't too loud, was I?"  She looked around her, worried at the prospect of corrupting her fellow minors.  "That stupid glue just wouldn't open…  Could you hand me those scissors over there, please?"

"Here.  And no, *I* didn't hear you, Ayumi-kun did.  Or at least she knew you were swearing somehow…"  He paused, watching as two of their classmates got into a spirited argument over whether or not Teacher would like Halloween bats on her poster (she had explained about the American holiday the week before).  A consensus was reached, and the hunt for the elusive black construction paper began.  "How DID teachers ever manage without construction paper in the past?  And what are you cutting out?"

"I've no idea.  And I'm making hearts to stick all over the poster."  Conan made a gagging noise; Rin looked slightly injured.  "Why not?  They'll be _*cute.*_  Cuter than bats, anyway… and just for that, you can help out."  She firmly handed him some red and pink sheets of paper.  "Get to work."

The truncated Detective of the East shuddered but complied, shooting her a reluctant little sideways grin.  "Slavedriver.  So this is how it'll be for the next decade, huh?  You, telling me what to do… me, cutting out red and pink hearts?"

"It could be worse.  I could be dating other guys and finding you a babysitter….."

_"Ouch._  Okay, point taken; hearts it is."

Occupied for a few minutes, they worked together in silence.  At last, though, Rin spoke up quietly without removing her gaze from her scissors.  "Are you nervous about tonight?"

Conan pretended to study the angle of the cut he was making.  "Tonight?  Let's see, what could be happening tonight to make me nervous?  --Oh, I remember:  an internationally-wanted criminal who knows our secret is going to risk his neck and/or possible capture by the Bad Guys as well as the police.  While wearing a stupid white tuxedo that really shows up in the dark, I might add…  No, why ever should I be nervous?"

_**SNIP!!**_  "He's rubbing off on you, you know—"

The scissors fell to the desk with a clatter.  "He is NOT."

"He is too, if you're going to say things like that.  You had more of a sense of humor before you became Conan-kun than you did afterwards, and now you're getting it back…  Why is that?"

Shrug.  "More to laugh at?  Or more to the point, someone else to laugh with who gets the joke?"  Ruffled, the boy retrieved his scissors and glanced across the room towards Ai, who had by now somehow ended up helping Ayumi glue down letters; she seemed slightly baffled to be in the middle of everything for a change.  "As intelligent as Haibara may be, she's not exactly known for her sense of humor."

"Mmmm; this is true."  Rin paused as she followed his gaze.  "I think Ayumi-kun's being a good influence, though; I actually caught her *laughing* about something the other day during recess."  At his raised eyebrows she nodded.  "Yes, really.  So I guess there's hope for us all, isn't there?"

Behind Conan's eyes Kudo Shinichi thought exasperated and somewhat worried thoughts about a certain tuxedo-clad maniac who seemed to find nothing wrong with risking everything for the right reason.  _*Maybe he IS rubbing off onto me.  Or I'm rubbing off onto him.  Whatever.*   _"Let's keep that in mind," he muttered.

****************************************************************************

"My uncle."

"Yes, Kaito, your uncle," said his mother, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the tinted glass of the car window.  "And that's the fourth time you've said that in the last few minutes."

Her son was, to all appearances, quite relaxed where he sprawled in the back of the rather large, dark car beside Nakamori Aoko.  That is, until you noticed the way his nails were digging into the leather upholstery…  "Yeah, well, that's because I'm *waiting* for someone to come out with an explanation.  My _uncle_--?  So far as I've ever known, I don't HAVE any uncles.  You said that you were an only child, your parents and their siblings and kids are all gone except for Auntie Makoto, Dad's family is nonexistent, so--"

The man driving the vehicle sighed, paying careful attention to the cars to his right.  "Not so much nonexistent as not on record, actually; and to be precise, Kuehiko-sama would be your great-uncle, the brother of your paternal grandfather," he remarked in a dry tone.  His moustache was only shaded with grey and he had more hair; otherwise, though, he was a near-twin to his older brother Jii.  "The Kuroba Family Proper has always done its best to stay out of the public view, and if that took a little altering of records now and then, why… it was accomplished easily enough."  He shifted gears to avoid a slow-moving bus, adding casually, "I'm sure you understand the need for secrecy better than most."

Kuroba Kaito cocked one eyebrow up, his face giving away nothing.  "Secrecy—sure, from the public.  But why from me?  Even Jii never said a thing about you or any uncle of mine to me.  'Jii-niisan', you said, and your name is… Shunme-san, right?  Jii's younger brother?"

"Correct, young master—err, how would you like me to call you?"  Kaito had made an exasperated noise at 'young master'.  "Would 'Kaito-san' be more comfortable to you…?  Very well, then."  The car turned left, moving smoothly between two large trucks and ducking beneath an underpass.

Aoko shifted uncertainly, shooting a slightly scared look at the boy beside her.  "Um, Shunme-san?  This isn't the way to Kaito's house—"

"It's alright, Aoko," put in Kuroba Hikarue as soothingly as possible.  "We're going straight to Kyoto.  I've already spoken with your father; he's on his way up there to prepare for, err, tonight's activities, and I promised to watch over you."  The older woman gave her a rather tired smile over her shoulder, smoothing back the dark hair that was so much like her son's with one hand in a habitual gesture.  "And Kaito, don't worry—Jii already took your things up there with him; he left early this morning.  He said to tell you not to worry, and that… um, I believe he said 'it will be midnight before you know it.'"  She looked at her son, slightly perplexed.  "'Midnight'?"

Beside her, the man called Shunme gave a brief snort of laughter; he sounded so _very_ much like Jii.  "I had nearly forgotten about that saying of his—he used to use it when your father was alive.  A little code-phrase of his, wasn't it?"

In the back seat Kaito stretched, resting his head on his clasped hands; he looked slightly annoyed.  "Yeah, it means 'All Systems Go, Full Speed Ahead And Damn The Torpedoes'.  More or less.  I hope he remembered to grab a handful of the new gadgets—I have *plans* for those….."  The young man's fingers tightened on each other; from her position beside him, Aoko could see just how tense his hands were.  "Okay, one more time now, with feeling:  _My uncle??_  Anybody want to enlighten me as to why I never met the man while growing up?  I mean, secrecy:  good; total blackout: bad.  If the man's so concerned about me now, _why the hell didn't he show up when my father died?"_

The question hung in the air, as tense and strained as tangled wire.  No-one said anything at all.

At last Shunme spoke, hands still busy with the wheel; his voice was subdued.  "I—cannot answer for  Kuehiko-sama; he'll have to speak for himself.  As for me, I *have* kept in contact with Jii-niisan over the years on occasion, and it was with great regret that I refrained from coming to your father's funeral."  His fingers tightened on the wheel.  "Only Kuehiko-sama's request that I remain absent kept me away… and from contacting you as well over the intervening years.  There _were_ good reasons."  A lull in traffic and a halt at a red light allowed Jii's younger brother to turn his head and look back at Kaito; his dark eyes were full of a startling sadness, much like his brother's had once been during a certain talk on a rooftop more than a year earlier…

… when a  very young man's world had changed irrevocably.

"Fine."  Kaito's voice was a little distant but quite calm.  "He can explain his reasons to me face-to-face… in Kyoto, I assume?  He's waiting for us there?"

Shunme nodded, shifting his attention back to the traffic as it began to move again.  "Not tonight, though; he'll be meeting with us tomorrow morning.  Tonight I am to be of whatever service I can to you during—"

"'Service'?  Shunme-san, not to be rude and all that, but I don't KNOW you.  I don't know what you're capable of, whether or not we can work together—"  Kaito made a frustrated noise low in the back of his throat; beside him, Aoko shifted uneasily and slid her hand over to clasp his.  It was damp and sweating.  "I think you'd better just kick back and relax.  Matter of fact, I'd feel a _*whole*_ lot happier knowing somebody was staying with Mom, now that she's along for the ride…"

Kuroba Hikarue shook her head tiredly.  "Don't worry about me, Kaito; Shunme-san's taking me to join your uncle.  I'll be fine."  She sighed, turning away to look out the window again.  "I'm sorry this all had to happen at once…  I was hoping to introduce you two sometime after you graduated later this year, not beforehand.  But when I was with your Aunt we—erm, well, that is…"  Her voice trailed off beneath her son's sharpening stare.  "It was nothing, really—it's just…."  She wilted.

"Mom…..?" he prompted warningly; "Just what DID happen?"

Shunme spoke for her.  "She left her hotel room to get something from your aunt's car and found me removing a surveillance device from beneath the front seat."

Hikarue's son went white, and Aoko bit back a protest as his hand gripped hers with biting force.  "Son of a—those bastards _*found*_ you?!?  When?"

His mother leaned her forehead against the cool glass.  "Two days ago, apparently.  It's a lucky thing for us both that 'Koto-chan doesn't know a thing about this whole business, and that I haven't spoken to you on my cellphone in the car at all."  She offered her son a slightly strained smile.  "Even so, knowing that—that your father's murderers had gotten that close…  Kaito, your great-uncle has offered to meet with you a time or two over the past year; I've always refused.  That was my fault; I wanted you to, well, to have as much of a normal life as possible, even as the Kid."  She made a helpless gesture with one hand, palm up and out.  "Once you get involved with him, Kuehiko-san will just—he'll change _everything,_ Kaito; everything."

The road thrummed beneath the vehicle's wheels as a quiet minute or two passed, filled only with the sounds of thinking.  "He can try," said her son finally; "But I'll worry about that later, okay, Mom?  Tonight's mine, my business, my problems; I'll deal with him tomorrow."

With that he turned to Aoko, who had been watching him all along; her fingers tightened around his.  "'A normal life'…  Did you hear that, Aoko?  'A normal life.'"

And he laughed softly.

The ride to Kyoto was rather quiet after that.

****************************************************************************

The place that Kaito and Jii had chosen to work from was an old train station, outdated and no longer used in these days of the Shinkansen; it sat upriver a little ways from the Botanical Gardens, tucked off on a scrap of land that was already fenced around and posted for demolition.  The location was ideal, really—close enough to be workable, far enough away to be unnoticed, and once the workers who were stripping the place of useful components, pipes, etc. had left, nicely abandoned.  Jii had spotted it on one of his recent trips to the city and checked it out quite thoroughly, passing along the floorplans and maps of the area to his 'young master' afterwards.

The workmen had finished with their salvaging two days earlier and the site was closed down awaiting demolition; the timing could not have been better, since there were still quite a lot of details for the _other_ work-crew present to take care of.  An eavesdropper might find the conversations taking place throughout the remainder of the day to be rather interesting…

_"Hand me that tape, would you, Jii?  --no, the fireproof stuff.  Are those the new incendiary grenades?  Cool…  Thanks."_

_***********_

_"--didja get anything on that new batch of cannon-fodder in the Task Force?  Looks like they've added four more bodies for this heist—"_

_"Not surprising.  It seems that the Inspector took your second note to heart; let's hope that the extra personnel will be unnecessary."_

_"Mmhm.  Now, where did I put those fuses--?  Oh, thanks, Aoko—"_

_***********_

_"—wish this stuff was easier to get; I have to order it through no less than three different names and ship it *four times* to make sure it's untraceable—and even then, I'm paying out the nose.  But it's not like you can run down to the corner store and ask for half a kilo of nitrous oxide solids….  Hey, Aoko?  If your dad ever complains that I have it easy, swat him for me, will you?"_

_***********_

_"Be back in a little bit—this shouldn't take too long.  Quit stressing out, okay, Aoko?  I just need to take care of an errand or two—won't be long at all."_

_"That's not what I'm stressing about, Kaito."_

_"???"_

_"I know you don't want to be recognized, but… do you HAVE to go out looking like… **that?**"_

_"What?  Is my slip showing?  This is one of my better disguises, though I keep wondering—does this dress make me look fat, d'you think?"_

_ "I'm beginning to worry about you, Kaito….."_

_**a grin and flutter of eyelashes**  "Oh, really--?  Give me a chance later on and I'll put your worries to rest…"_

_**sputter, sputter**_

_"…Please don't hit him too hard, Aoko-san; the Kaitou Kid would look rather odd performing with a blackened eye."_

_***********_

_"—See, toldja it wouldn't take too long.  AND I got the dummy items placed without any trouble at all.  Now, if the transmitter'll just work…."_

_**beep**beep**beep**beep**_

_"Bingo.  Now we're cooking with gas—"_

_***********_

_"—and four days ago I placed the loads at the top of the joists on my last trip.  Should be a good, clean launch and they'll do the least damage there, but they ought to go off like—well, like *fireworks,* actually—"_

_"More booms?"_

_"Yup!  More booms!  It's one of the best parts of being a Phantom Thief!  I *love* booms!"_

_"……………."_

_***********_

_"A watcher outside Heiji's house?  Damn…  I didn't think they'd be THAT thorough.  Good thing you checked up on him, Jii."_

_"I have to agree.  And considering his reputation as a detective—"_

_"Yeah, I'm way ahead of you.  There's no way he's going to miss out on the heist… and no way the bad guys'll miss out on HIM if they get the opportunity to remove one more little danger.  Bullets riccochet, people shoot the wrong target in a hurry, that sort of thing…"_

_"True."_

_"Mmmm.  But you know, I *think* I have an idea—  Did we pack the full set of masks and wigs?  There was that one I made back during the Memory Egg thing—I never did get to use it.  And that gives me another idea….."_

_"Kaito?  Just WHAT are you planning to do to Heiji-kun?"_

_"Nothing permanent, Aoko, nothing permanent—"_

_***********_

_"Yeeeep!  KAITO!!  Stop *JUGGLING* those!  What if they go off?"_

_"Nag, nag, nag--  OW!!"_

_***********_

_"…I've checked out your glider and replaced that upper left joint that was giving you trouble; it should fold up more smoothly now.  Aoko-san, could you please pass me the toolkit by your knee?  Thank you.  Oh, and the microphone setup is ready for testing."_

_"Great!  Hope the range is wide enough…did the jamming gizmo work like I predicted?"_

_"Yes, rather well in fact.  You know, Master Kaito, we might consider marketing your 'gizmo' afterwards.  The commercial applications could be very lucrative—"_

_"Later, Jii, later.  Let's just survive tonight first, okay?"_

_"Of course, young master.  Of course."_

_***********_

_"Kaito?  Where do you want these, left side or right?"_

_"Oh JEEZE, Aoko!  Be careful with those—left, and place 'em *pins upwards* or I'm gonna be one embarrassed Phantom Thief when they all go off at once in my pocket—"_

_"Sorry…..  What are they, anyway?"_

_"You don't want to know.  No, REALLY; you don't want to—okay, okay, they're sleep-grenades.  Useful little buggers…  Jii?  Do we have any left with the pink smoke?  Yeah, the PINK smoke.  Why not?  It's a trademark!  …Oh, stop wincing and give 'em here."_

_***********_

_"…errr…..Aoko?  Didja know that you had split your jeans in the back?"_

_"AWWP!"_

_***********_

_"Like this, Kaito?"_

_"Yeah—now, what kind of music do you want to use?  I brought a bunch of CDs…"_

_"I'm still not sure I understand.  You're going to use the music to jam transmissions--?"_

_"No, we're gonna use it to keep them from *reading* transmissions—they can listen all they want, all it'll do is make 'em twitch.  See, you'll be up on the tower playing Eye-In-The-Sky for me and anybody trying to track our signal's going to get an earful of the Phantom Thief's Top 40 instead of what we're saying.  Jii and I've done something like this before, only we just used a jammer; this time we're going to use a high-powered replacement transmission that'll override anything they use to read our signal and feed a false output to their receiver.  Got it?"_

_"…..um….."_

_"Jeeze, Aoko, it's not that hard—"_

_"Give me a break, Kaito!  I'm not USED to this sort of thing!  But… I think I understand; if anybody listens in on what we say, they'll hear whatever music we have playing instead?"_

_"Yup; it's safer to substitute signal for signal than just to jam it; and besides, I always wanted my own soundtrack."_

_***********_

_"Aoko, really, I named 'em Nakamori Specials as a TRIBUTE to your dad, not an insult— no really, I mean it!  Look, they're TRICKY little thingies—I put a lot of thought into them!  Um… Jii?  Help?"_

_"I'm staying out of this one, Master Kaito."_

_***********_

_"@$@%$%#!!  Dropped—the—damned—wrench—on—my FOOT—"_

_"I *SAID* I was sorry….."_

_***********_

_"—just barely got them ready in time, and me and Jii hid 'em onsite a few days ago; there's five total.  The C02 cartridges seem to work okay, and I got 'em synchronized with the helium outputs so they'll go off in the right sequence—considering the effect, your dad'd probably have a heart attack if they went off in reverse."_

_"Really?  What would happen?"_

_"…Well….. d'you remember reading in your dad's notes how I've used inflatable Kid replicas before?  This is kind of a new take on that.  Only problem is, if the cartridges go off in the wrong order the Task Force'll see me soar over their heads and then explode."_

_"Oh."_

_"Yeah.  I think your dad would either burst into tears of joy or start frothing at the mouth.  Maybe both…"_

_***********_

_"Shift-change is at 8 p.m.; we'll need to be in place by then.  Jii, are all the props ready?"_

_"Of course; the receivers and relays were positioned by yesterday noon—why else do you think I came up here early, Master Kaito?  While the Gardens do indeed have their own unique charm, my hay-fever allergies would not usually urge me to visit them *nearly* as much as I have as of late were they not a target…"_

_"Sorry 'bout that…"_

_"Never mind; we all make sacrifices.  And speaking of which—Aoko-san?  Has your father met with any success in his attempts to leave off smoking?"_

_"Nooo…  He keeps sneaking cigarettes when he thinks I won't notice.  Why?"_

_"Ah.  Well, you see, we've found his aroma of pipe or cigarette-smoke to be a very useful way of recognizing him in the dark in the past.  On the other hand, the glowing ember does make him a most visible target…"_

_"………….."_

_***********_

_"You picked us up lunch?  Coolness—you're a lifesaver in more ways than one, Jii!!  Dibs on the curry!"_

_***********_

Shunme had driven on with Kaito's mother, despite his protests that he would 'like to be of some use'; the young thief had shaken his head firmly (and a little warily, if truth be told; no kaitou worth the name trusted somebody just because they were an accomplice's relative).  "No offense, Shunme-san, but too many cooks spoil the broth, y'know?"  He had run a rather harassed hand through his hair, scowling a little as he climbed out of his side of the car; the three of them had been let out several blocks from the train station.  "I'm used to working with Jii, and Aoko already knows her part in this—right now, the best thing you can do for me is take Mom to safety with this uncle of mine."

The older man had sighed.  "I *did* tell Kuehiko-sama that you would not take well to outsiders coming in at the last minute…"

Kaito had shrugged.  "You got that right.  I'm still having trouble dealing with the fact that I seem to even HAVE an uncle, much less one that's not having collywobbles about my being a kaitou and all."  His gaze had sharpened perceptibly at the other's barely-suppressed smile.  "So that's not a problem, huh?  I've read a bit about the family history—"

"Ahh; good."  Jii's younger brother had shrugged slightly, still smiling.  "Then you'll understand that 'collywobbles', as you call them, are not precisely a problem among the Kuroba clan.  Rather the opposite; your uncle is quite well aware of your, eh, career choice—"

"Really?"  Kaito's voice had held a distinct edge as he closed his door; hands on hips, he surveyed the other man in the large, dark vehicle.  "And was he 'quite well aware' of my father's enemies *before* Dad was murdered?"

From the seat beside Shunme, Kuroba Hikarue had closed her eyes.  "Kaito—your uncle….."  Her words trailed off.

Her son had waved a hand in the air.  "'Save it 'til later', yeah, I know.  But… tell my uncle this for me, will you, Shunme-san?  Tell him he'd better have some answers for me, _good_ ones; I think I have a right to 'em."

Jii's brother had nodded, his eyes somber.  "Understood."  He released the clutch, but a sound from beside him made him replace his foot on the brake.  "Oh— Kuroba-san?"

"Kaito?"

The son of Hikarue and Toichi had walked around to the other side of the car, leaning over beside his mother's window.  "Mom… don't worry; it'll all be fine—_I'll_ be fine, and this will all be over before you know it."  He had reached inside to take her hand, squeezing it tightly and smiling down at her.  "I'm good at what I do.  Remember what they say?  'The gods look after fools and drunkards'…"

She had rubbed at her eyes with her free hand.  "Y-you don't drink, though—"

"Yeah, but I sure as hell qualify for the 'fool' category."  His smile had faltered as his mother reached up a hand to touch his hair, fearfully, almost as if she were afraid he would disappear before her eyes.  "Mom, I'll be **_careful._**  I promise.  Believe me, I've got plenty of regard for my own tender hide—you didn't raise any martyrs.  Besides… I have all sorts of good reasons to want to make it back in one piece, you know?  More than before."  Kaito had not turned around, but he had seen his mother's gaze slip past him and knew that Aoko was standing not too far behind.

His mother had wiped at her eyes one more time, nodding.  "Just… I know.  I know—I went through this over and over again with your father."  She had attempted a smile, and although it wouldn't have fooled even the greenest of Nakamori's men it had been a pretty good attempt.  "I guess I'm out of practice.  Just—come back safe, Kaito?  _Come back safe."_  Her hand left her son's hair reluctantly.

"I will.  I promise.  And I don't break my word, mom, no matter what."

She had at last drawn her hand back inside the car; the vehicle had shuddered as Shunme gently put it back into gear.  "I know," she had whispered, still trying to smile.  "So much like your father….."

Her last words had carried an echo with them as the car drove away.

And NOW….. it was late afternoon, almost dark; and three rather weary accomplices sat around in the dusty train-station talking over last-minute details, checking bits of gear, and (for Aoko's part, at least) worrying.

"Are you *sure* you've checked everything on the list?"

"Yes, Aoko, I'm sure.  I'm SURE I'm sure.  I'm *sure* I'm SURE I'm sure.  Want me to go on--?  AAACK!  No fair hitting Phantom Thieves on the eve of a heist!"

The Inspector's daughter settled back onto her seat (an empty crate salvaged from a storeroom).  "Since when?"

Kaito grinned at her lopsidedly from his sprawl on the floor; the thief had laid claim to a bedraggled painter's tarp and folded it into a makeshift pallet.  "I just made it up.  After all, you gotta leave _something_ for the Bad Guys to aim for…"

She glowered, arms crossed.  "If that's supposed to be a good reason, I think you're missing something somewhere.  Jii-san, is he _*always*_ like this before a heist?" she asked, turning to the older man.

"I'm afraid so."  Jii looked far different than he had as the elderly gardener of the Botanical Gardens or (for that matter) the keeper of the billiards hall that Kaito liked; he looked, thought Aoko, both younger and… more at ease, somehow?  Despite the fact that he seemed more the sort to wear a suit and tie, the older man managed his dust-smudged sweatshirt and rough workman's clothing with aplomb.  And now he directed a raised eyebrow in his 'young master's' direction, a wry smile upon his face.  "The more dangerous the situation, the more jocular he seems to get."  Jii shook his head.  "His father was the same way…"

The thief in question merely grinned at them both.  "Why not?  I'd rather laugh than cry."  Despite his words, his smile faded a little and turned pensive.  "You know, there was this quotation in one of his journal entries; he didn't say who it was by, but_—'If you don't learn to laugh at trouble, you won't have anything to laugh at when you're old.'_  I like that… and despite what any black-jacketed would-be Goth bastards might have to say about it, I plan on living to be VERY old someday."  The grin came back, challenging and confident despite the smear of dirt that ran across it in a streak from right cheekbone to chin.

"Mmph.  Just be sure and use something a little more solid than laughter to fight them with as well, okay?" said Aoko darkly, refusing to let go of her being-worriedness (in her opinion, _SOMEBODY_ had to do it).  She hugged herself tightly; the evening was growing chillier—they were right by the river, after all, and the deserted train-station had no heating whatsoever.

The noises of traffic and commerce outside had faded with the sunlight; as shadows filled the old building, quietness followed behind them.   As Jii flipped on a tiny light and busied himself with some last-minute adjustments with some gadget or other, Aoko watched the day fade from the room and marveled silently at how easy it was to see through the darkness now.  _*Maybe it's as much an attitude as a physical thing,*_ she thought to herself.  _*Maybe I had to stop being scared of shadows.  Or… maybe I'm just being silly; this is all so new, it's hard to be sure what's real and what's not anymore.*_

And maybe that should be as frightening as the shadows had once been.  But somehow, that night, it wasn't.

_*And maybe that's the biggest change of all.  I'm scared for Kaito and for my dad and his men, but I'm not scared of—of the idea, not anymore.  I guess that's sort of a 'seeing in the dark' too.*_

About then her stomach rumbled loudly, interrupting the Inspector's daughter's musings with its own concerns; she smiled to herself.  _*And maybe I should stop being so philosophically stupid or stupidly philosophical and eat something_.*   "Kaito?  Are there any leftovers from lunch?"

Her friend had climbed to his feet by now and was rummaging around in the crumpled fast-food bags and carryout boxes Jii had hauled from the trunk of his brother's car.  "Mmm; let me check.  Could do with a snack or two myself, come to think of it—"  He turned aside to poke around a bit busily.  "A little of this, a little of that—will cold noodles do?  And there's some chicken too…  Jii?"  He turned to the older man, holding a drumstick in one hand.  "There's still enough to split three ways; want some—???"

Jii glanced up, turning his tiny light towards Kaito; to their astonishment the older man's eyes had suddenly widened enormously and his jaw had dropped, along with the light.  It clattered on the floor with a tinny, muffled noise, and Kaito blinked.  "What?  You don't like chicken?"

"Um—Kaito—our **_eyes_**—remember?"  Aoko shielded her own reflexively as comprehension dawned across her companion's face; he muttered a curse and then shrugged. 

 "Ooops.  Oh well…..  Turn off the light, Jii; we don't need it much anymore."   He ducked his head with a self-conscious grimace and continued sorting through the leftovers, crumpling the paper bags and napkins with more force than necessary.  "Don't freak out on us, okay?"

The elderly thief had seemingly frozen in place; still slack-jawed, he stared at the young man who continued rifling through the fast-food containers as if it were the most important thing in the world.  It was notable that the younger thief did not look at his face.  "But, but M-master… Kaito…?  You… ahh—you've—"

"—got eyes like a cat, yeah, yeah; I know.  Calm *down,* Jii, it's no big deal—just sort of a, well, an occupational hazard me and Aoko ended up with.  Or do I mean a work-related injury?  Or maybe an industrial disease?"  The forcedly light-hearted tone did not come off quite as well as it could have.  "Something like that, anyway.  Don't spaz out on me now over it, please."  He shrugged and picked up the light himself, clicking it off and offering it to the older man without quite meeting his eyes other than a quick flicker of a glance.  "Here… and have some chicken, will you?"

"…b-but….."

"Or—no, you don't like takoyaki, do you?  And they get rubbery when they're stale, anyway."  In the near-darkness of the room Kaito peered into the bag again, carefully keeping his face a little averted.  "Thought there were a few dumplings left, 'cept they got a little squashed since they ended up at the bottom—"

"…I—but _Master Kaito—"_

"—but hey, any Dim Sum in a storm, right?  I think we used up all the dipping sauce, though—"

"MASTER KAITO."

At last the younger man sighed; his hands clenched into fists on the greasy paper, crumpling it with a harsh sound.  "Jii… can we talk about it later?"  There was a kind of desperation in his voice, Kaito's voice, the voice which never ever got out of control.  Without saying anything, Aoko came up behind him to rest her hands lightly on his shoulders.  "I know it looked weird, but it's… not something that's a problem; it's just--  uh.  Just think of it as a new trick."

His accomplice turned the small flashlight over in his hands, a frown furrowing his face.  "A—_trick._  That's quite a trick, if I may say so… very well, then, Master Kaito.  But you _*will*_ explain later on?"  Jii's eyes were as intent as ever, if a trifle wider than usual.

"Yeah, yeah, count on it."  Kaito sighed, leaning back a little against the girl behind him; her hands tightened as if she would protect him. 

With a final concerned, doubtful look, Jii sat down to his leftover chicken and a sheaf of notes on the heist (he continued to use the light, but carefully refrained from shining it anywhere but at the pages) while the other two munched as well; the air filled with the scents of leftover fast-food.  "It bothers you, doesn't it?" Aoko said quietly.  "The changes we've had happen to us."

"…yeah.  I don't really know why; I mean, hell, my life's so damned weird you wouldn't think something this small would throw me.  But it does, somehow."  Kaito picked up a bite with his chopsticks, stared at it for a moment and then put it down again; his face was uncharacteristically sober.  "Doesn't it bother you?"

The Inspector's daughter examined her noodles as if looking for omens in their tangled pattern.  "Not as much as it should, maybe.  I think I'm getting shell-shock or something."  She glanced across the darkened room at a certain white suit that hung on its hanger on a door-knob; the top-hat gleamed silkily even in the shadows from where it perched on a handy crate.  "I've had to get used to so much lately that one more thing just doesn't rattle me as much as it would have, oh, a month ago.  Even the thought of you as the Kid doesn't feel so wrong as it did."  Aoko made a sort of noncommittal hitch of her shoulders, too small to be a shrug.

"Really?"  The thief beside her picked up his bite again, eyeing her sideways with an unreadable expression.  "Hm.  And what about the 'theft' aspect of the whole thing?  That doesn't bother you anymore either?"

"I didn't say _*that.*"_  The young woman scowled.  "I don't like you stealing things, even if you're going to return them; that hasn't changed."

Her companion made a satisfied 'rmph' sound as he swallowed.  "Good.  You shouldn't get too comfortable with something like that—I didn't drag you into this to corrupt you, y'know… well, not _that_ sort of corrupting, anyway."  Kaito shot her a wicked grin, waggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated Villainous-Seducer way.  "Ow!  Masher."

She had poked him in the ribs with the tip of her chopstick.  "Don't worry, I'm not.  Comfortable, I mean."  Aoko thought for a second and then turned slightly pink.  "Um, not _that_ kind of 'comfortable', anyway." Kaito blinked, started to reply, and then thought better of it.

They munched for a few more minutes in relative silence, stuffing every scrap of litter into one of the fast-food bags; Kaito had mentioned that the last thing they would do before beginning the heist would be to clean up their work-area to the Nth degree, making certain that not even the slightest trace of their presence was left behind.  It was, he had said matter-of-factly, not only the intelligent thing to do but simply good manners; it was also one of the reasons he and Jii had chosen a place that was soon to be demolished as a base of operations.

It was full dark outside by now; Kaito crumpled the last napkin up and stowed the bags inside their backpacks, carefully checking himself over for crumbs.  His expression was calm, even relaxed; but there was a tiny twitch of excitement and anticipation there that Aoko had seen before in his face, usually just prior to some bombshell of a practical joke or trick going 'boom.'

And _tonight_—well, she supposed it *could* be counted as a really big 'boom', so to speak.  And he really DID love explosions.  Sometimes she wondered about him.

The Phantom Thief in whose sanity Aoko was currently questioning was busy gathering together his gear now; the white suit and hat (which compressed down surprisingly small) were neatly tucked inside a rucksack, along with all sorts of other things, only a few of which she understood.  And come to think of it, she and Jii had best be getting ready too—

A few minutes later had them out of their dirty working clothes and into the sort of outfits that a young woman and her grandfather might wear on a family outing—nothing memorable at all, really, which was the point, no more memorable than the small tote-bag which Aoko carried.  Its contents, however…  Well, they wouldn't be a problem unless they were searched, would they?  And who'd want to search a nice young woman who was obviously taking her grandfather out to dinner?  Of course, the wig and a bit of makeup didn't hurt either.

And as for _Kaito's_ appearance…  "Eww.  That's—Kaito, are you *sure* that'll work?"

Her friend grinned at her fondly from behind his disguise.  "It'—well—there are certain rules about hiding yourself if you have to go out in public, and one of 'em is… uhm…… lessee, how do I put this in layman's terms?"  The thief scratched his head.  "If you've GOT to be in a place where people are alert and looking for suspicious types, give your watchers a feature to remember—it sort of masks everything else."

"….. so…..?"

"…..so I'm currently the proud owner of a really beaky nose and a pair of eyebrows you could lose a caterpillar in, not to mention a spare-tire of extra flab around the waist… which, by the way, is a *great* way of hiding things like costumes, hang-glider setups and so forth.  The more flab, the more so forth."  Kaito waggled the aforementioned eyebrows and she winced.  "And _*that's*_ what anybody seeing me will remember, that and the Hokkaido University sweatshirt I'm wearing—they'll sort of fix on those details, and everything else will fade out.  Trust me, it works."  He chuckled, then looked at her hopefully.  "I could set you up with something, if you'd like—I've got a really memorable fake hairy mole in my makeup kit—"

"Um.  No.  Thanks anyway."  Standing by the doorway behind them, Jii made what sounded like a muffled snort of laughter.  "And we—we need to get going, don't we?"

"Yup!"  With a last glance around their work-area (not that it was really needed, what with Jii checking as well) for forgotten crumbs, signs of disturbance, etc., Kaito hoisted a rather battered backpack with a college logo printed across the straps onto his shoulders.  "Let's get moving.  Any last thoughts, Jii?"

The elderly thief, who was currently looking less elderly by the minute, shrugged slightly.  "I'd say 'good luck', but it's not precisely necessary… and 'be careful' is rather ill-advised."

Kaito grinned and waggled his eyebrows again; Aoko winced a second time.  They really *got* to a person.  "How about 'Don't do anything I wouldn't do'?"

"Ehhh… perhaps not, all things considered."  Jii raised one of his own eyebrows in a pained expression; then he glanced over at Aoko inquisitively.  "Any ideas on a good exit line, Aoko-san?"

For some reason she blushed behind her disguise, walking slowly up to Kaito.  "Only 'Don't do anything stupid', but I'm not sure if that's what you want," she answered, her gaze faltering a little before it steadied again.  Jii merely nodded, then walked out of the dusty room to scout out the neighborhood so that they could leave unnoticed.

Kaito smiled down into Aoko's face; his own was wearing an odd combination of tension, excitement and what could almost be called happiness.  She stared into his eyes; they gleamed bluely in the shadows.  "Aren't you _afraid?_  Even a little?  They're going to be *after* you, ALL of them, the good guys and the bad ones—"

If anything, his smile widened.  "Scared to death.  You?"

"I'm _*PETRIFIED.*_  You—you don't look scared, though….. does it get easier after a while?  Being chased?"

Kaito's winter-gloved hands slipped up, resting gently on her shoulders; the wool-clad fingers slid up to touch her very lightly on either side of her face, cupping it, framing it as if to keep it in memory.  "Nope, not really.  Oh, it kinda gets to be familiar and all that, but—no.  I wouldn't say it really gets easier, having people after you.  It just gets easier to *get away.*"

"Oh."  Her own hands (also gloved against the growing chill of the evening) came up involuntarily to clasp his wrists, not pulling away but just holding.  "I guess that makes sense……  Kaito?  **_Don't_** do anything stupid, okay?  Please?"

His grin had softened; very briefly he leaned forward and did something he had never done before:  kissed her lightly on the forehead, right above her eyes.  "Okay, I promise."  He had never promised anything like _that_ before, either.  "There, sealed with a kiss.  And… come to think of it, how do you feel about kissing a pudgy, big-nosed guy with bushy eyebrows?"

Aoko's answer was not in words.  In the end, Jii had to come back in and get them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Meanwhile, back in Beika City:

**bzzzzt**bzzzzt**bzzzzt**bzz—_  "Moshi moshi, Hattori desu—"_

"Hattori?  Where are you?"

_"Where do you think?  The Botanical Gardens.  About four meters up some sort of tree that has too many damned needles, if you want details--  It's got a good view, though...  I can almost see my house from up here.  **yawn**  Was wondering when you were going to call, Kudo—what took you so long?  You're slipping--"_

"Can it, Hattori; we couldn't get away from the kids until dinner.  Rin's right beside me—we're both listening.  How's the setup looking with Nakamori-san and his squad?"

_"Not too bad, for a change; maybe the aho's actually learning from experience.  Hey, Ra—Rin, I mean.  Kazuha said to ask you to call her when you get the chance, by the way… um, as Ran, of course, not as Rin….."_

"She says she will—and as for Nakamori, well, getting shot at will do that to you."

_"Damn straight.  And he's got people posted on every rooftop, in the maintenance tunnels under the Gardens, on the walls, on the river…  If you ask me, I think he's a hell of a lot more worried about the snipers than the Kid."_

"Wouldn't you be?  --Oh, and Ran says 'Be careful or Kazuha will hurt you'."

_"Na, do I look like an idiot?  Of course I'll—dammit; Kudo, Ran, I'll have to call you back--  some uniformed moron's under my tree with a message for me.  Stay by the phone, okay?"_

"We'll be right here."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

And from certain shadowy places in the streets of Kyoto:

_**zzzt**click** "Do you read me?  Answer—"_

_**clickclick**  "Loud and clear.  Are all agents in place?"_

_**poppop**click**  "In place and ready.  The two elite know their business—they'll be given first crack, and the rest will follow orders."_

_"Excellent.  Remember:  the main targets are a priority, but if you have to draw down on anyone, shoot to kill.  Live witnesses are… inconvenient.  Keep that in mind for our own people as well—you know the procedure."_

_"Understood.  And removal afterwards?"_

_**zzzzkt**zzzzkt**  "Full sweep; no agents' corpses are to be left behind this time—AND none belonging to the targets.  Make sure your men understand the consequences of failure; we have too much to lose.  Has their been any signs of—other operatives? "_

_"None, but—" **pop-pop**  "—will alert you and the elite agents if they show.  Doubt it, though.**_

_**clickclick**sszzt**  "Good.  If they show, though, shoot for the head as usual.  Copy?"_

_"Got it.  Out."  **zzt**click**_

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

And from a hotel room two streets away from the Kyoto Botanical Gardens:

"Another cup of tea before we go, Kari?"

"Thank you, no…..  Did you have any difficulty obtaining the drug?  Oh, and please pass me those gloves, would you, Pyotr?"

"Certainly.  And no, not in the least; a favor called in here, a name dropped there...  Are you *quite* sure you wish to handle things this way?  I'd be happy to take more direct methods myself if you'd prefer."

"And here I thought you had such a case of—how do they call it?  'Cold feet'?  Such eagerness—"

"………."

"Never mind, dear Pyotr, I'm merely teasing you.  I appreciate the offer, but this is one time in which I dare say my particular attributes will prove useful.  It's the oldest trick in the book, but sometimes old tricks are simply more feasible than new ones."

"An old trick to snare an old dog, eh, Kari?"

"Let's not speak of age, shall we?  ….. and now, if you please, I believe the relevant term from the movies is 'lock and load'.  Let us be on our way."

"…..Kari…..  _When_ did you become a fan of American spy thriller films?"

"Let's just GO, Pyotr."

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

…..and then…..

…..it was **_showtime_****_._**

****************************************************************************

Kaito had asked if she was afraid of heights.  When Aoko had warily admitted she was not, she hadn't quite expected to end up where she was…..

_*There must be some sort of built-in attraction between Phantom Thieves and clock towers,*_ she thought wryly, wondering nervously how long it would be before she found herself in jail.  Not very long, if anybody discovered the two unconscious guards that Kaito—no, she had to stop thinking of him as Kaito—that the _Kid_ had stowed away beneath the second landing of the stairwell.  She had expected at first to be stuck on top of a roof or some such, not planted in plain view of anybody on the ground and wearing a very conspicuous uniform (and just how _had_ he gotten hold of two of the Kaito Kid Task Force outfits complete with all gear *and* weaponry, anyway?  She was afraid to ask), but as both Jii and Kaito had assured her, the best place to hide was usually in plain sight.

_*Well, this DEFINITELY fits the bill,*_ thought the Inspector's daughter.  She hoped resignedly that if she wound up in handcuffs they'd at least use the new ones with the padding on the inside.

Her helmet was sliding down on her forehead again; with an internal grimace at how uncomfortably it fit, she pushed a tendril of curly black hair from the wig she was wearing beneath it out of the way, clutched her rifle and tried to look official.  The weapon was heavy in her hands; she could smell whatever kind of oil had been used on the chamber, and it briefly crossed her mind to be glad of her gloves—the air was damp and cold this high above the ground.

"Please be careful with that, Aoko-san; it is loaded, you know—"  The quiet voice beside her made her jump slightly; Jii had stepped up with his usual cat-footed silence to peer out the tower's unglazed window at the ground far below.  Well, not *that* far; it was only five stories tall, but that was quite high enough for her, thank you.

"I know; K—_he_ told me it was," she answered distractedly, wondering for the umpteenth time how her father would take the news of her arrest (if he didn't make the collar himself, that is).  "He offered to unload it—you know how much he hates the idea of anybody getting hurt—but…"

The unrecognizable figure beside her (Jii was currently impersonating one Ujimato Toma, a three-month 'veteran' of the Task Force, and had developed a rather pug nose and a mole on his left cheek) shot her a dubious glance.  "…but…?  Aoko-san, _can_ you shoot?"

"….._BUT_ what use is an unloaded gun?  And yes, I can shoot—my dad taught me when I was younger.  He decided that since we had guns around the house I ought to know what not to do with them.   And…"  She looked rather grimly down at the floodlit lawns below and the scattered figures at their posts.  "…and if I see anybody in black trying to shoot Kai—the Kid—I'm… I'll….."

She hesitated, feeling the weight of the rifle; it was oddly cold through her gloves.  It was so easy to say you'd shoot somebody when you didn't actually have the weapon in your hands, when you hadn't actually checked and seen the loaded ammunition yourself.   Had her father ever felt like this when he knew he was going to have to fight for his and others' lives?  Did he feel like that tonight?

Did he feel like that _all the time?_

And… _*could*_ she do what was necessary if she had to?  Kaito'd hate it; he didn't want anybody hurt, not even the people who had killed his father.

But…

_*I won't let anybody kill Kaito or **my** father.  I can't know until the last second what I'd do, but I won't let anybody kill them.  I won't.*_

"… I don't know what I'll do.  But I didn't want him to unload it."

Jii merely nodded, shouldering his own weapon.  He hadn't unloaded his either.

It helped that Kaito had armed them both with a few less lethal weapons; in Aoko's left jacket-pocket several smoke and sleep-grenades rested with reassuring heaviness, and in her right there was something that the thief had referred to as a 'doodlebug', though he had warned her not to use that particular item unless she was in what he called Deep Kimchi.

Like she *wasn't* in Deep Kimchi right now?  _*Oh well…..  At least I'll get a good view of my Dad in action before they cart me off to jail.  I wonder if prison food tastes as bad as they say?*_  The whole evening had a peculiar air of unreality to it, sort of like the dreams she had gotten a time or two after too little sleep and too much late-night TV and odd snackfood.  There had been that time that Kaito had made onigiri using canned spam and pineapple…..

Come to think of it, most of her odder dreams had happened after eating Kaito's concoctions.  _*Surprise, surprise.*_

Jii was checking his watch for the millionth time; even through his disguise she could catch the lines of tension on his face.  "Twenty minutes past eleven…  Is the com unit working?"

"Mmhmm; I guess I should check in…"  Aoko craned her neck at a sharp angle, trying to find her father; she could smell a trace of smoke from the brand he favored, which made her scowl beneath _*her*_ concealment.   _*When he gets home, I am SO going to—no, no, I can't say a word; he'd know I was here if I did.  That's assuming I don't get arrested or shot, that is.*_  A tap of a hidden button built into the side of her helmet sent a crackle of static into one ear; very softly she spoke into the small comlink positioned in front of her mouth.  "Ummm… testing, one two three, testing…..Do you read me?"  

Triggered by her use of the com, the CD she had slid into the jamming unit in her small backpack began to play softly.  Against a background of j-pop that she had burned onto a CD a few months back, a familiar voice crackled:

_"Loud and clear, and the jammer's working like a charm.  Everything ready on your end?"_

She nodded to herself as if he could see her.  "Ready—"  Were his palms sweating inside his gloves like hers were?  The Inspector's daughter rubbed her fingers together, the heavy material rasping loudly in the still, chilly air of the tower.   Aoko bit her lip.  "…please be careful….."

_"I will—you too."_  The com unit sounded abnormally cheerful.

The music continued to play softly in the girl's ears as she pulled out the small pair of high-powered binoculars she had been supplied with.  The plan was that she and Jii would play watchdog during the heist, with Aoko watching inside the walls of the gardens and Jii watching the surrounding streets; anything iffy would be reported over the comlinks and dealt with accordingly.  It wasn't the first time Jii had played eye-in-the-sky for Kaito by any means, but it was the first time either of them had had backup, which made the whole enterprise both more and less risky simultaneously.  Less, because there would be an extra pair of eyes watching each other's backs; more, because there'd be one more person to extricate before they were caught.

_*And I thought the Kid just dove in, snatched his target, made my dad look like a fool and left; I never knew he had to WORK so hard.*_  Aoko's eyes strayed towards a small, quickly-moving figure in a familiar jacket that stomped his way across the lawn and into the Conservatory, trailing cigarette smoke.  _*Dad'd never believe it.*_

Beside her Jii fidgeted unconsciously with his watch.  "Three minutes."  There was a barely perceptible smile on the older thief's disguised face.  Below, the floodlights glinted momentarily off blond hair as another figure in a trenchcoat hurried up the steps into the glass building.  "And there goes Hakuba-san, precisely on time."  A sneeze echoed up from below, followed by a second as the heavy door shut.  He chuckled to himself.  "Sometimes it's rather comforting to know that pedanticism is not strictly reserved for those rich in years…"

_*???  Oh well--*_   She stole a glance at the man's old-fashioned watch (neither he nor Kaito wore digital, which made sense, since the glow of the numbers would be a dead giveaway in darkness), suppressing what could be a shiver of either fear or excitement or both as the second hand swept around towards the twelve.  Two minutes…  "I wonder why Hakuba-kun is sneezing so much lately?  He's worse than ever tonight."  With the peculiarly sharp hearing that she seemed to have developed she could actually catch the sound of several more sneezes as he passed into the building, fading in volume.

"Ah.  That would be the Young Master's little joke—"

This did not bode well.  _"Which_ little joke?"

"I believe you witnessed his sprinkling a powdered concoction all over Hakuba-san's desk area at your school a few days past?  Apparently your classmate is allergic to felines, and it was thought that a vigorous dusting of powdered cat-fur would perhaps give him something other than the Kid's escapades to concentrate on."

"Oh--  So *that* was why he's been sneezing so much at school…"

"Yes; apparently it was deemed that a trail-run with a light mixture was in order.  The results were satisfactory, and before I left Tokyo I stopped by the dry-cleaner that he uses and, errr, 'dusted' that rather Sherlockian trench-coat that he favors with a much heavier admixture.  And as for where he got the fur for the powder, I believe he said something about 'vacuuming Spot'—"

"……………….I'm going to kill him….."

"Don't be _too_ hard on him, please, Aoko-san—from what I understand, your kitten objected quite bloodily to being, err, groomed.  You can even consider this a compliment to your classmate; as much as the Young Master hates to admit it, he does consider Hakuba-san to be enough of a threat to take action.  He's so much easier to recognize and locate this way, don't you think?  Thirty seconds."

"Yes, but I—  What?"

_"Thirty seconds."_

The Inspector's daughter closed her mouth with a snap, feeling sweat break out afresh beneath her disguise as she turned back to the window; her eyes strayed one final time towards the highest point of the Conservatory.  _*Please be alright,*_ she prayed to Whoever might be listening; _*Please, please come out of this safely… PLEASE be careful…*_  And she could not, for the life of her, have said whether it was Kaito, her father, or even Hakuba that she was praying for, or to Whom.

Not that it mattered.

_*Please be careful…*_

Beside her, Jii stiffened faintly; his gloved fingers gripped the railing as the second-hand on his watch swept around once more, perfectly in time with the greater hands of the huge clock below them on the wall of the tower.

"-----and--- **_time._**_"_

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Without a whisper of sound to betray him, the Kid scooted forward in his perch atop the Conservatory to steal another glimpse of the floodlit grounds below.  The ornamental wrought-iron cupola that perched like a candle on a birthday cake hadn't been all that easy to reach unseen but it hadn't been impossible either, what with Nakamori barking commands right and left and his men scurrying to obey them.  Who paid attention to one more squadmember carrying a heavy bundle of equipment?

_*Well, that's not QUITE true; I actually had to fend off one offer of help.  Couldn't let anybody lend a hand though, not without risking them getting a look at my little prize package here…..  Good thing I found that tarp; it made things a lot easier.*_  And it hadn't hurt that repairs had been going on to some of the outer supportive beams of the Conservatory, either; the ropes, pulleys and adjustable gantry behind the main complex had been easy enough to use for his own purposes.

_*Good thing I spotted them on my last scouting trip here, too.* _It was amazing, the Phantom Thief thought cheerfully, how a little forethought and preplanning could make the world a more pleasant place.

Tugging his mask more firmly into place, he glanced back at the afore-mentioned 'prize package' that he had wrapped so neatly in the tarp; a corner had been folded back, and the furious face of Hattori Heiji glared out from the plastic.  The teenager's sweater, hat and jacket had been stripped off and 'borrowed', but he had been allowed to keep his undershirt, jeans and sneakers.  If his mouth had not been taped so firmly shut, no doubt he would have been verbally ripping the Kaitou Kid several new orifices; but as it was, he was as tightly trussed up as a Federal Express package bound for the wilds of Outer Mongolia.

"MMPH!! MMPH—_MPH_MPHH!  --Mnn MWW mnf mhw _MFKK_ mrrflpf!!"

_"Temper, temper…  My apologies, Hattori-san, but I'm a little too busy to do that just now,"_ murmured the Kid to the blazing green eyes; they fairly crackled with animosity.  _"And besides, I don't think it's physically possible, no matter how flexible we phantom thieves are."_  He chuckled softly, adjusting the fit of his borrowed cap._  "Believe it or not, this is for your own good.  I've reason to think that detectives of *all* stripes are high on the Endangered Species List this evening, and what sort of person would I be if I didn't do my part for Japan's conservation movement?  I wouldn't worry about being bored, though—I plan on putting on quite a show this evening, and you'll have company up here soon enough."_  Behind the dark-skinned mask the thief's own eyes gleamed with laughter from the darkness (the lights did not reach the cupola at all) as he fitted a pair of green contact-lenses into place and tugged his wig more securely into place.  "You should have a good view, at least…  Can you see okay from that angle?  Good."  The last sentence or so had been in Heiji's own voice, and the young detective's expression changed to one of bug-eyed dismay and realization behind the tape as the Kid pulled a cellphone out of the pocket of his borrowed jacket and flipped it open, dialing a certain number.

"Kudo?  You and Ran there?"

_"Yeah—is everything okay?"_

White teeth flashed in the dark, the Kid's smile on Hattori Heiji's face; from a few feet away, the tarp-wrapped detective made a low growling sound from behind the tape.  "Ne, couldn't be better.  Looks like we got about a minute to go."

_"What was the message, anyway?"_

"Message--??  Oh, you mean the guy that interrupted us?"  He chuckled softly again, glancing over at the discarded Task Force uniform and mask that lay nearby; they had been quite useful in getting the other teenager within range of his little dartgun.  "Nothing important… just a detail that needed taking care of.  No big deal."

"MLPH!!  MLPH, MWWDWW!!!  MRRRRRRGH!!!"  The growling increased in tempo and volume and the Kid's 'prize package' thrashed slightly in an attempt to kick the thief, who carefully edged back a few inches, cupping his hand over the phone as his now-green eyes sparkled with laughter.

"Looks like things are getting a little stressed here; 'bout down to the wire…  The Task Force guys are in place, Nakamori-san's inside the Conservatory, that weirdo in the Sherlock Holmes getup—Hakuba or something, right?  Right, you said you'd met him—is in there too, and I'd better shut up and keep my eyes peeled for a while.  I'll call you back in a few, okay?  Jaa—"

_"Dammit, Heiji, wait a min-"_

_**click**_

"Kudo's going to want my head on a platter, you know," remarked the Kid conversationally (if softly) to the trussed-up detective beside him.  "So you'd better appreciate this, Hattori-san; you stood a good chance of buying the farm this evening—can't tell you why, but it's the truth.  So watch your back after this, ne?"  The good humor in the disguised thief's voice went oddly with the warning, especially since he was still using Heiji's casual tones; realization took a moment to dawn in Hattori's eyes, but after a second or so they narrowed in speculation and the Kid nodded.

"And now… time for me to get my ass in gear."  The Kid sighed, then edged carefully backwards past Heiji to a rope tied to a small gap below the railing.  "I'll be sending you the 'company' I mentioned shortly—when you both get loose, do me a favor and explain the facts of life to him, will you?  He's gonna be pretty damned pissed off, but I'm stashing him up here for the same reason *you're* here."  As he slid bonelessly beneath the rail, he chuckled softly a final time.  "Detectives—gotta catch 'em all…  Enjoy the show, Hattori-san."

"MMMPH!!  Mmph mf FWW, mwf mphrfkkr!!!"  His only answer was a faint, fading breath of laughter...

…..in Heiji's own voice.

"MRRRRRGH!!!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Well.  _THAT_ had been fun.

As 'Hattori Heiji' dropped lightly down from his rope to land beside the cold glass walls of the Conservatory, he grinned to himself a little ruefully; Kudo really *was* going to want his head on a platter after this.  He'd have to get in line behind Kazuha-kun, of course…  But what else could he do, let the Osaka-jin get himself shot full of holes?  No way; for a law-and-order type, Heiji was a nice guy.  And the same went for Hakuba, with less emphasis on the 'nice' and more on the 'needs a laxative'…..

But collecting him would have to wait 'til things got underway, which would be just about…..

**_………….now._**

Slipping his hands into his pockets, he fingered a tiny relay that slid down out of one sleeve.  His eyes gleamed as he glanced up at the just-past-full moon and then at the clock tower; they softened a little, then sharpened with the undeniable, wicked delight and euphoria that he always felt on a heist.

And… _this _time…

_*Watch me, Aoko; watch me do what I do best.  For me, and for you, and for all of us.  **Banzai!!!***_

With a cold thrill compounded of both fear and elation, he pressed the first switch.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

And in the Conservatory…

….. at least seventeen people looked at their watches for the third time in as many minutes, sweating buckets inside their uniforms and helmets.  Gloved hands gripped the rifles that were so seldom carried with enough tightness that the metal would carry tarnish-marks; eyes flicked back and forth, full of wariness.

Nakamori smoked a final cigarette in utter defiance of the multilingual _'We Appreciate Your Not Smoking In the Conservatory'_ signs posted here and there.  He ground it out beneath his foot on the tiled floor, ignoring a hard look from one of the East Indian guards that he had not been able to get rid of—not that he hadn't tried like hell, but the curators or whoever they were had had screaming fits at the very idea of turning their precious exhibit over without having their own guards onsite as well.

_*Civilians; JUST what I wanted to see.  At least they're keeping out of the way.*  _Actually, the swarthy, quiet group of men had been very little trouble, hanging back from the Taskforce squadmembers and keeping to themselves.  Which was just as well, because if they had caused even the slightest bit of trouble, Nakamori would have taken a positive joy in busting their asses for interfering with a crime scene.  The fact that it *wasn't* a crime scene yet would not have slowed him down at all…

_*Not much I can do about that Hattori kid, either, though at least he's been involved with a Kid case before.  And Hakuba.  I did not need Hakuba, but it'd be easier to pry asphalt off a goddamn street with a spatula than to get HIM to go away.  INTERFERENCE.  I @#$%!! *hate* interference.*_

Uneasily he adjusted the fit of his jacket for the umpteenth time, tugging at the bulletproof vest that he had been required to wear by those to whom he referred to as the '@#$%!! Higher-Ups'.  _*Goddamn thing itches.*_

As on many another heist-night, '@#$%!!' was rapidly becoming his favorite word.

He stole another look at his watch.  Two minutes.

In the brilliantly-lit building, the gilded bronze statues of the Padme Exhibition glittered and shone like—well, gilded bronze.  What else?  Their jewels threw back the floodlights in an eye-bewildering shower of colors; they had not been made to be seen by electric light, but by the buttery glow of oil lamps and torches, and the harsh glare of the bulbs overhead made it hard to look at them straight on.

Nakamori examined the nearest one critically; it seemed more than a little freakish to him (not that he was putting down anybody in particular's religion, what with all that PC crap they made you read in the Department bulletins), considering that it seemed to be of a guy riding on the back of a truly bizarre-looking fish.  It had a hangman's noose in one hand; the Inspector eyed it somewhat doubtfully _(*This is religious art?*)_ and checked the placard beside the statue.  '_Varuna__, God of Oceans.'_  "Huh," he grunted, wandering left a ways to peer up at the one that *really* interested him…

_'Rama, also called Vishnu, King of the Gods' _was what the placard said.   And in the statues forehead, an eye-shaped emerald glittered down at the Inspector as if it were alive.

The guys down in Research had done their jobs; Nakamori stared hard at the jewel, thinking equally hard about the Kid's riddle.   The shape of the missing emerald from the University heist had not escaped his notice, and the Research people had seized on the whole 'some things are always found in pairs' bit too.  Their best guess was that it would be either Rama's forehead-jewel or one of the eye-shaped gems in the multiple palms of the last statue on the left, the one named Chandra.  Personally Nakamori was betting on Rama; eyes belonged on faces, didn't they?

Eyes… emeralds and eyes…..  His own eyes slid back to his watch again, and the Inspector gritted his teeth.  Thirty seconds.

The Kid would be on time.  The Kid was almost _always_ on time, with very few exceptions even by a second—Greenwich Mean Time, the most accurate clock in the world; the Inspector had accordingly (if grudgingly) adjusted his watch to match it.  Nakamori had never quite been certain whether his absolute promptness was one of the bastards' more irritating or redeeming qualities, but it was a given; the son of a bitch would not be late.

Twenty seconds.  He took a final drag on his cigarette, then crushed it out.  Around him his men edged in a little closer.

One more look at the statue of Rama before he turned away; the eye in the god's forehead had an odd, uncanny gleam to it even under the stark electric lights—you could almost swear it was glowing…

Ten seconds.

Five.

(and it was so strange, how those five seconds could stretch and stretch and stretch and how Nakamori heard a faint echo in the back of his mind from the last time he had encountered the Kid:  _seven wounded, two dead)_

Four.

(and a voice, snapping out _"Let's just worry about getting out of *this* situation alive, shall we? We can both worry about the future later")_

Three.

(and he remembered the odd, cold pain he had felt in his bones when somebody said they thought that the Kid had taken a bullet)

Two.

_(*Stupid bastard.*_   But he hadn't died, he was alive and he was _here--)_

One.

(_--right now--)_

**_Zero._******

_ …………………….._

_There was only silence._

_*???*_

Nakamori slowly straightened back up from his instinctive flinch-and-duck, the product of too many heists.  From all directions, his men raised their heads cautiously and looked around-----

_*Huh?  HUH??  Where the hell IS he--?*_

**** W H O O O M P H! ! ! ! ! ! ****

With a massive, thundering concussion, **_something_** took off from the glass-and-metal roof high above; many somethings,  one after the other, screaming like an entire flock of maddened banshees and trailing immense waterfalls of sparks.   The noise was horrendous inside the Conservatory, juddering through the prismatic walls and rattling the beams—every member of the taskforce, veteran and newbie alike, threw themselves flat on the ground with their hands over their heads with nearly-simultaneous yells of "OH SHIT!!" or variations thereof.

**_"You're_**_ **FIVE SECONDS LATE**, **you** **goddamn son of a bitch!!!!**"_ bellowed Nakamori at the ceiling, the walls, and especially the fireworks that were bursting into existence overhead in multicolored glory.  He scrambled to his feet, looking around wildly; sparks clashed and hissed down the glass walls as if the stars had come to visit the gods of India.  _*@#$%!!  The gods--*_  Nakamori jerked around to stare at the statues, the statues that seemed almost to come alive in the screaming, flashing light of the fireworks—

_*Where is he?!?  Dammit, where IS he, where--*_

"SIR!!" shouted one of his men urgently, pointing towards a glass wall.  And Nakamori wheeled around and saw-----

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

_*Beautiful; worked like a charm.  Now for Stage 2--*   _And _**click**_ went the relay again.

_**boomph!! boomph!! boomph!!  boomph!!  boomph!!**_ went five devices, carefully placed high in apparently-inaccessible trees several days earlier around the green that surrounded the conservatory.  Small apertures opened and spat out their contents, which swelled rapidly and took shape as they were filled with a measured mixture of air and helium.  Miniature engines ignited; CO2 fed through conduits, propelling their near-weightless burdens into the air.

And far below, 'Hattori Heiji' watched in satisfaction, counting down a measured amount of time before clicking the third relay and taking off at a dead run across the lawn towards the Conservatory…

….. as, high overhead, no less than ***_FIVE*_**_ Kaitou Kids_ came suddenly swooping through the air behind him on their hangliders from all directions.

The Inspector's scream of outrage and shock was audible even through the door and glass walls, which was no particular surprise since he could clearly see the white figures that dove and shot past and around the Conservatory; 'Heiji' jerked to a halt and to one side just in time to keep from getting his face splattered by the back of the heavy door as it slammed open from the inside, allowing a stream of Nakamori-led uniformed figures to pour out onto the lawn.

_*Sweet,*_ remarked 'Heiji' appreciatively to himself as he slipped past the last squadmember into the Conservatory; _*Go, lemmings, go!  You're safer out there than in here with the target, that's for damned certain.  'Course, Heiji-kun's bright enough that he'd think 'decoys' and do just what I'm doing right now--*_

Casually he slid his hand along the edge of the glass-and-metal door as he opened it, attaching a very small magnetic sensor to the underside of the handle where it wouldn't be noticed; the supposed Detective of the West hesitated just past the foyer at the edge of the largest room and sighed internally as a sneeze rang through the tense, flood-lit air.

_*--and of course, Hakuba would too.  HAS, in fact.  But then, that's sort of what I was hoping for… wasn't it?  Right; let's get this over with.*_

Shoving his hands into his pockets, 'Hattori Heiji, Detective of the West' strolled into the Conservatory.  Inside his gloves, his palms were sweating… but behind his mask, the Kaitou Kid was grinning an anticipatory grin, just a little…..

_*Here I come, Hakuba-kun, ready or not; make this worth my while.*_

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

_TO BE CONTINUED_

**_Ysabet's_****_ Notes:_**_  Hello again!  Sorry this one took so long—been in Florida for a few weeks and got caught up with a few plot-developments that I had to check, recheck and check again.  Think this is a decent chapter, though—but man, did I *EVER* have to watch it!  So many things that could *not* be left out, forgotton or skipped…..  I put the "A" in Anal Retentive._

_I was sent some absolutely beautiful fanart from Icka and Scoutfinch; will post a link to it ASAP, soon as I have it loaded.  GORGEOUS stuff—wish I was that talented….. Anyway, will add in the links as soon as possible.  Some of them are for Longest Hour, some for Windfall.  ThankYouThankYouThankYou, Icka & Scoutfinch!_

_Okay; I have actually written about 5,000 words of the next chapter already—it was growing too humongous, so I chopped 'em off and stuck them in 16.  Seemed like a good place to do it at—a change of scene and all that.  Sooooo, the next chapter will concern the outcome of the heist, the mystery of KK's uncle, a certain kidnapping….. and Kari's story: the secret of the Pandora Gem, revealed at last._

_Oh, and Ayumi and Spot, of course.  And the Four Fishies of the Apocalypse.  And a little romance for KK & Aoko, too.  :D_


	16. Pass Or Fail, Part Two

**_Chapter 16: Pass Or Fail, Part Two_**

_Heffalumps and Woozles,_

_They're in ones and two-zles_

_They come in every color, shape and size….._

_ (from Winnie the Pooh)_

_Okay; let's get down to business, shall we? Got things to do, people to drive crazy, gems to steal….._

With Hattori's wary, cautious step, Kuroba Kaito, the Kaitou Kid, advanced into the room; with Hattori's bright green eyes he cast a quick look around, pushing a shock of black hair back with a gloved hand as he noted the five East Indian guards and the four Taskforce types. And Hakuba-kun, of course.

Of course.

_Nine guards and Hakuba; should be a cinch. Well, nine out of the ten, anyway; let's not get too cocky just because things've started right, Thief Boy. You still have a pain-in-the-ass detective to nab while Nakamori and the rest are out front playing tag with your decoys-- HE'S not fool enough to be fooled by tricks like that._

Time to be Osakajin without any mistakes; fine, no problem. A gleam of anticipation sharpened the 'detective's' eyes, and he swallowed a lump made up of a weird combination of excitement and nerves; this would be fun. _Let's be Heiji-yan like our life depended on it, which it sort of does... 'Course, there's nothing wrong with enjoying ourselves while we're at it, ne?_

"Oi, any problems in here--? Your name's Hakuba Saguru, right?" He nodded abruptly at the other teenager, allowing his eyes to narrow as he shoved back the black slick of hair that kept falling into his eyes. 'Heiji' jerked his chin sideways towards the confusion past the door behind him. "Looks like the Kid's suckered Nakamori and the rest of his guys into playing games."

The Brit gave him a brief, polite half-bow. "Hakuba Saguru, yes—and you are Hattori Heiji?" His broad shoulders relaxed a little beneath his heavy tweed Inverness coat. "I've had the good fortune to meet your father once or twice; a credit to his profession. And yes, the Inspector and the bulk of the Task Force have been drawn out… You, ah, do realize that those are all decoys, don't you?"

'Heiji' grinned a little sardonically, rocking back on his heels with his hands in his pockets. This WAS fun. "Well, yeah-- It's the kind of thing the Kid'd do, isn't it?" He gave a snort of annoyed laughter. "And Nakamori-san fell for it hook, line and sinker." The remaining Taskforce Members kept silent, but there were a few resentful expressions on the stolid faces inside their helmets; the Kid decided that Hattori Heiji wouldn't give a damn, so he continued on. "Nah, no prob; if—_WHEN_ he shows up in here we can take care of him ourselves."

The East Indian guards had drawn together in a wary clump; they talked quietly among themselves, dark faces stolid and eerily calm. Two of them (both a little shorter than the others and alike enough to be brothers) seemed to be staring hard at both Hakuba and himself; what was _their_ problem? 'Heiji' resolved to keep a little closer eye on the group of men until it was no longer necessary…

_...which will be in about five minutes, if everything goes according to schedule. They're pretty damned alert, though, aren't they? I mean, you'd EXPECT them to be nervous, what with being targeted by a professional like me--_ (momentarily he preened)_ --but they don't look so much intimidated as… expectant? Sort of… keyed?_

They watched him; a thought occurred to him then, and the supposed Detective of the West's gaze sharpened momentarily. _Well, well, well; they AREN'T the same guys that were here the other day, are they, now? And there's something about the way they move--_ The guards had this air of near-conformity about them, a feeling of—what? Capability? Alertness? Whatever it was, it had 'bad juju' written all over it, in the way their eyes followed his movements, in the way they glanced at each other and then back at him, hard-faced behind their shades.

He raised one eyebrow; they stared back, silent, reminding him strongly of a pack of black-suited Dobermans. And… wearing shades, every one of them, despite the fact that it was night-time?

Shades…..?? _Oh. **OH.** Woooooboy._

_So that's how it is… Well, whaddya know—I was right; thought it might go down this way. Good thing I prepared for the possibility. _His pulse quickened irrationally until it thundered in his ears, and the disguised thief had to fight back an impulse to draw his cardgun from where it rested in his borrowed jacket's pocket. _Calm down, calm down, calm DOWN, moron. You wanted this; you set it up and sent the invitations—if they hadn't shown up, this'd be one goddamn huge waste of time, wouldn't it? You got your wish, so DEAL with it—time to play or fold. It's gonna be very tricky, though, with Sherlock-For-Brains over there to handle as well.___

'Heiji' strolled forward, staring up at the gilded bronze statues with the Osakajin's most thoughtful look; the statues stared back noncommittally. Behind them, the group of East Indian guards watched every move he made. "Didn't the Kid try to steal a statue one time before? I think I remember reading about that in the paper—" Stepping forward to the base of the central one, he admired the jewels inlaid in the flowing metal with a professional's eye. _Mid-grade ruby, not very valuable from a jeweler's point of view, but nice work anyway. That is, if it were what it looks like…_

Hakuba nodded briefly. "And failed; not only was it too heavy, but I had chained it to the floor. One of his more spectacular failures, actually." The blond also stepped up beside him to examine the statue. "I don't believe we have to worry about that sort of thing this time around; I take it that you've studied his most recent riddle?"

"Sure." 'Heiji' kept his face straight without difficulty; keeping the gleam from his eyes was a bit more difficult. "What'd you make of it?"

_Well, Saguru-chan? Let's see what kind of Magic Act you're capable of putting on._

Hakuba crossed his arms. "Hmph; anyone with even a pretense at methodology or the study of logic could have worked out the first part—all that nonsense about things being found in pairs, and the line '_Second Sight can see what lies beyond the visible'._ It was quite obvious that he was referring to eyes, which led to speculation regarding the last object which he stole: The Akuti's Eye." He frowned. "And that particular object has me somewhat concerned, actually—it's one of the few items stolen by the Kid that he hasn't returned."

The Phantom Thief hid a grimace with a shrug; this was true. _Sorry, Hakuba, but it's in a thousand pieces and has probably been vacuumed up from Ayumi-chan's floor by now. Good riddance to bad rubbish y'know, but—well, so it goes; you won't be seeing that gem again._ "Ne, isn't that sort of the operational definition of 'thief'?" he asked wryly, tugging Heiji's treasured baseball cap a little lower.

The other shrugged as well. "One would think so. Back to the riddle… The time and place were easy enough to figure out if one researched East Indian religious customs and history—I assume you saw the connection--?"

There was a challenge in the direct amber gaze that flashed sidelong at him, and the current version of Hattori Heiji nodded, smirking internally; he was really beginning to enjoy their little game. "No duh. The Akuti's eye was from India, eyes come in pairs, so the second target was most likely Indian as well. Kyoto's Tourist Board has been yelling about their big East Indian exhibit here at the Gardens for the last few months, and that religious bigwig that blessed the statues this morning was as good as a red flare." He moved a little further along, playing at examining the next statue; it wouldn't be too good a thing for Hakuba to get _too_ close.

The Indian guards watched, motionless as stone. One of them seemed to be fingering something in his pocket.

The detective's own eyes narrowed a little. "Correct; you live up to your reputation. And of course, in Hindu theology, the god Hanuman is the son of the Wind God, Varya; his chosen day of prayer to his adored Rama is Tuesday." Somewhat to 'Heiji's' annoyance, he strolled along behind. "And your conclusions regarding the time clues—?"

A shrug; the supposed Osakajin shot the other a slightly irritated glance. _I don't think Heiji-kun'd take too well to being interrogated._ "That took a little checking out, but—the whole thing about 'night becoming day' pointed at astronomical midnight, the halfway point between sunset and sunrise the next day: 11:25 p.m." The remaining Taskforce members blinked at the two nervously as 'Heiji' leaned forward, pretending to peer a little closer at a gemstone adorning one of the statues' garments.

A noise from outside caught his attention, and 'Heiji' listened for a second to some serious yelling; Nakamori? A moment later he grinned to himself; sure enough, that was Nakamori, and in fine form too. Apparently one of the decoys had swooped a wee bit too low, causing the Inspector to take a nosedive onto the lawn. He was currently spitting out blades of grass and informing the Kid just where he could put his hat, his hanglider AND his monocle, all simultaneously—and sideways to boot. _Ow. I don't think they'd fit, and I KNOW I don't want to find out._ Apparently Jii and Aoko were having fun with the remote-controls….. He just hoped they managed to avoid any mid-air collisions. _Sure hope they don't get too caught up in what they're doing to pay attention to what's happening in here…_ He dismissed the thought even as it occurred; Jii was a professional, and Aoko… wasn't her father's daughter for nothing. She'd do fine.

"Something wrong?"

_Urk?_ "Uh—na, na, just thinking." _Right; he probably can't hear Nakamori, or not too clearly at least; I can't get used to how well I can pick things up now._ Belatedly recalling one of Hattori's mannerisms, the disguised thief tugged at his cap again until it was back-to-front and quirked one eyebrow up. "So, what's your take on the target, Hakuba-yan? Plenty of eyes here--" He gestured at the jewelled collection before them. "Eyes in foreheads, eyes with gems in 'em, eyes on hands, peacock's eyes patterned on their clothes... Any guesses?"

Hakuba sneezed once, sniffling descreetly into a snowy handkerchief. "I never guess; I deduct."

_Oh, RIGHT. You 'never guess.' I'll remember that._ "Aaaand your deduction is--?" 'Heiji' drawled out, leaning one elbow casually on the corner of a pedestal; the East Indian guards stirred restlessly but said nothing; however, one of the shorter ones nodded at his fellows and they began to move slowly away from each other, fanning out into a staggered line behind the statues.

'Heiji''s fists tightened momentarily, then relaxed._ Down, boy. Wait for it._

The British detective's eyes also flickered to the guards for a moment; he frowned slightly and then slid his hands into his pockets, still clutching his handkerchief. "Ah; permit me to keep my confidences to myself a bit longer, Hattori-san-- I dislike being embarrassed if I am proven wrong." He barely smiled for a second. _"'If'. _We should know very shortly."

_Bingo; no time like the present, since Nakamori and his lot are all eyeballs-deep in their own concerns by now._ One last swift glance at everybody's position for reference. _Let's go. _He did not have to fake a look of slight annoyance as he brought one hand up to scratch the back of his head, a finger seeking out and finding a tiny button cleverly hidden among the fake hair at the nape of 'Heiji's' neck. "Yeah, well, I--"

_click! _He pressed the button; overhead, a small clamp released and something fell to the floor with a clatter.

_**BOOMPH!!**_The supposed Detective of the West bit off his reply as a sudden cloud of pink smoke burst forth from above; coughing filled the room, interspersed with curses and frantic shouts into radios. _Forget it, guys-- my leetle friend the button just activated a short-range jammer as well as dropping a sleep-grenade with enough gas in it to down a herd of rhinos. Nighty-night!_ 'Heiji' coughed as well, staggering against his pedestal with one hand over his face; "Hakuba-yan? Hakuba, dammit, where-- _cough!!cough!! _GodDAMMIT! _cough!!cough!!cough!! _Hak--Haku--" He stumbled and fell to one knee, taking deep breaths from the concealed airhose running from his sleeve into his palm. "Shit! _coughcough!! _HAKUBA--!! _coughCOUGHCOUGH!!choke--_

_Okay, once more, with feeling!_ "Ha-- aaack--" _cough**THUD**._

Flailing vainly at the pink clouds, the disguised thief allowed himself to slump to the floor, more than half-concealed by the statue's base. Across the room he could hear staggering bodies plummetting to the ground and more than one person scrabbling at the heavy glass door. _Sorry; it's thoroughly locked. That little sensor of mine has more than one use-- quick to place, easy to remove if you know what to look for, and the coolest invention since they came up with microwave ramen._ 'Heiji' kept his face against the floor, listening hard.__

A minute went by, then two, then three; the heavy pink smoke did not dissipate so much as sink and then level out into a foot-thick, ground-hugging shroud of puffy clouds that very much resembled dry-ice fog (only pinker). Harsh breathing and gasping coughs eventually slowed into even rhythms of sleep, and the disguised thief mentally patted himself on the back. _Good old sleep-gas; gets 'em every time._ Opening one eye, he took a deep breath from his air-hose and slowly and cautiously sat up.

The bodies of the four Taskforce-types made huddled islands in the pink-smoke sea, easily recognizable in their coveralls; beyond the statues and shrines, the East Indian guards were also visible. And best of all, that tweed-covered lump over there had to be Hakuba, which was just _dandy._ Nobody stirred, and the faux Detective of the West did a mental high-five with himself. Everything was going according to schedule.

Stepping over several slumbering bodies with slightly exaggerated care, the disguised Kaitou Kid strolled towards his chosen target. His steps were muffled by the pink mist, almost drowned out by the way his own hearbeat thudded in his ears.

"Ohayo gozaimasu, Kami-sama," he addressed the gilded bronze god in Heiji's voice, smiling a wicked little smile. "'Scuse me, Your Dietyship, but you mind if I borrow a little something of yours? Won't hurt a bit, I promise." The moon-god Chandra glittered down at him from its place on the farthest left-hand of the display, a faint, conspiratorial smile of its own seeming to answer back.

The room was very quiet… wasn't it? Or had something shifted slightly towards the back of the room? 'Heiji' froze, his eyes narrowing as they searched the drifts of fog: nothing moved. _Had _something moved? If it had, it wasn't moving now…

In Chandra's outstretched four hands gems glittered, brilliant under the bright lights, drawing him back towards it; the lowest one on the left was an emerald, eye-shaped and centering a lotus. It gleamed with its own unearthly light, molten and cold, as he stepped carefully up onto the dais and balanced himself against the statue's own considerable weight. "Easy now… don't worry, I'm a professional." Small tools with rubber-dipped tips appeared in both hands; the gem was eased out of its setting with a modicum of movement, and the camouflaged thief paused before stepping down to hold it up to the light.

"Pretty little thing, aren't you, to have caused so much trouble?" he murmured, green eyes crinkling; the emerald winked back.

_Okay, that bit's done. So—am I right? Any little fishies gonna take the bait--? Ugh; maybe I'd better think of a different analogy. Birds after birdseed? Cats after mice? Squrrels after nuts? Cops after moi, n'es pas? Whatever….. Heeeeeere, Baddies baddies baddies, here's a nice little Mystical Pandora Gem for you, all chock-full of vitamins and minerals to keep your coats shiny and your eyes bright—_ He continued to hold the jewel up to the light enticingly for a moment; when nothing in the room stirred, 'Heiji' gave a disappointed sigh and slid lightly down from the dais onto the ground.

_Huh. Maybe I was wrong? They've GOT to be here, though—I did everything but freaking INVITE them… no, screw that, I actually did invite them through the riddle. What do they want, blood? _With a grimace that held far less humor than before, the disguised kaitou slid his prize into a pocket and dusted off his gloved hands. _Come to think of it, yes; that's exactly what they want. Well, they've gotten all the Kuroba blood they're going to get. Guess I'll just have to step outside and try my luck there—they've got to be here somewhere. So let's collect us one unconscious blond detective and get going with the next part of our pla**AACK!!**_

The tweed-covered lump no less than three meters away was now sitting up, one hand to its face. Angry amber eyes glared coldly out over—

_Oh HEY, no fair! He's got an air-supply too!_

--a small, hand-held gas-mask, with its tube running down inside Hakuba's coat-sleeve. "Going somewhere, Kid?" asked the detective in a muffled tone as he climbed to his feet, staggering slightly. "I think not. As many times as you've gas in the past, did you really expect I wouldn't come prepared this time?" Hakuba smiled grimly behind the mask. "You might as well give up—you're not going anywhere."

_Uhh—Okay, it's stupid to keep pretending to be Heiji; waste of time. _ "Really? I don't see anybody around that's capable of stopping me…" Easily he stepped back and behind the nearest statue-pedestal. "You look pretty wobbly, Hakuba-san; why don't you take a little nap before you fall over?" Belatedly he realized that he was still using Heiji-kun's voice; _Oh well, might as well 'til I have the mask off._

His opponent pulled himself upright rather shakily as he continued to glare; apparently Hakuba had gotten a lungful of gas before he had put the mask into use. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? But I've no intention of letting you go this easily." Fumbling a bit, the detective pulled something gun-like from one coat-pocket; "We've a lot to discuss, you and I."

_NOW what's he got? Him and his gadgets; he's almost as bad as me. A taser? No, it has a barrel, but—eeeyipes!!_ The disguised thief jerked aside as Hakuba leveled the weapon and fired; it made a surprisingly small _thworp!!_ as something small and silvery shot out, trailing a thin line behind it. The silver disc missed, landing on the floor with a crackle of electricity that came as much from the thin line as from the disc itself.

_A taser, sort of; gotta avoid the wires or I'll fry. Clever in enclosed spaces, useless on open ground; not bad, Hakuba-kun. Not good enough, but not bad._

Behind Hattori Heiji's face, the Kaitou Kid grinned. "Oooh, nasty; electric Frisbees, hmm?" He dodged sideways, taking the high road and swinging himself around and up onto a pedestal beside one of the jeweled gods. "Good little boys shouldn't play with such toys—they might get their fingers burned."

_thworp!! thworp!!_

Keeping the bulk of the statue between himself and Hakuba, he took a second to yank his jacket off and toss it sideways; that earned another _thworp!!_ and gave him enough time to kick his pants off as well and dive to the next statue. Hakuba cursed. _thworp!! _Beneath the loose camouflage of Hattori Heiji's clothing, the Kid's white suit gleamed.

"Not listening, are you? But then you do get so testy when you push yourself too hard, Hakuba-yan. Why else do you think I went to so much trouble to make sure you took a little nap?….. 'When the pin has been pulled, Mister Sleep-Grenade is not your friend'—that's what it says in the Taskforce Manuel, y'know," he remarked with a mocking two-fingered salute towards the other. "It'd do you good to read it some time…after you wake up, ne?" A quick twist of his wrist dropped the white ovoid he had dubbed his 'Peacemaker' into his hand; swiftly he brought it up and aimed. Hakuba's eyes dilated in alarm and he stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over a fallen squadmember.

_Sorry, Hakuba; if they're after Heiji-kun, they'll definitely be after you, so this is for your own good-- _The Kid's fingers tightened on the trigger—

--only to jerk back as a sound from _behind_ him made him wheel around, his cloak tumbling from where it had been folded beneath Heiji's jacket to swirl around his shoulders. There were figures were rising up from amidst the drifting pink clouds back behind the columns—and they had guns held waveringly in their outstretched hands.

_ShitShitSHIT. I knew it, I knew it—it IS the baddies, and they just fought off the gas. Just like I fought off Kudo's little darts, so that means that I'm probably right about the rest of it, too. But DAMMIT, I wanted to get Hakuba under wraps before the bastards got back up-- Improv time, Thief Boy! Think fast!_

Eyes wide, he held up placating, seemingly empty hands, edging stealthily towards the last statue on the left. "Whoa, whoa—no shooting, okay, guys? If you do, _HE'LL_ get mad, and believe me, you don't want that—" and he waved urgently in Hakuba's direction, whose jaw dropped in indignation.

Momentarily the still-groggy gunmen's eyes flickered towards the blond; it was only for a split-second or so, but that was enough.

_"DOWN, Hakuba!" **SLAM!! **_ 'Heiji' threw the small object that he had hidden (surprise!) up his left sleeve at the floor. It shattered, releasing a sudden dense burst of white smoke, and everybody (except the thrower, who was currently busy hotfooting it behind a handy statue to the left) winced back, shielding their faces. The blond detective spat out something authentically British and tripped over a sleeping body, landing on his tweed-covered backside in the lower, heavier pink fog; for a half-second or so he sat there and blinked furiously, then dove sideways for the safety of one of the right-hand statues.

His erstwhile opponent, in the meantime, had taken advantage of the momentary confusion to wrench the mask from his face and pop his folded-up hat and his monocle into place. _Whew, me again. Good to be back. _Chandra's statue made a handy refuge as the white smoke dispersed, supplying him with a bit of breathing space; as the Kid rubbed at his face to remove the last bits of mask-adhesive, he flashed a quick glance up at the impassive bronze face.

_Moon-god, right? Any chance of a little Divine Intervention--? Oh well…_ He dared another look, this time past the effigy's cold metal robes—

**_bdow!!_**

****

A bullet winged past, making him jerk back with a curse. _Guess not. Gotta get out of this one on my own._ Down the curve of the display he could see Hakuba, flattened against his statue in the same manner; he had chosen some sort of multi-armed deity with knives and flowers in its hands. More bullets pinged off the stone floors and buried themselves in the foliage of the Conservatory's trees, shattering glass and mixing the smell of cordite with the cloying reek of the pink sleep-gas.

_SHIT. Any second now the guys outside are gonna notice the noise and come charging into a firefight—gotta end this DAMNED quick._ Swallowing hard, he thought for a second and then threw the Heiji-mask that he was still clutching out into the center of the room; **_bdowBDOWBDOWW!!!_** went the guns, this time directed away from him, which gave him the chance to throw a second handful towards the ceiling—

**_ F L A S H !!! _**

--everyone yelped, shielding their eyes yet again. _"Flash grenades, gotta love 'em,"_ muttered the Kid, noting absentmindedly that he had reverted back to his Official Heist Voice, which felt bizarrely good for some reason. As both bad guys and detective reeled in the momentary brilliance, the Phantom Thief whipped out something from one coat-pocket that gleamed gunlike and silver; he aimed low towards a massive power-outlet on a nearby column hung with a tangle of cables, all leading to the overhead lights. _So you don't like light, huh? Let's see how you like darkness--_

_thwap!! _went his cardgun; and Hakuba cursed once more as darkness fell. There was an eerie moment of near-silence.

Then—

_…and now I can tell if I was REALLY right or just jumping to conclusions…_ the Phantom Thief edged forward (nearly tripping over a heavy water-hose running through the ornamental flowerbeds to either side of the shrines) and peered around his statue again.

--then, with soft, purposeful movements, several pairs of _gleaming, lucent eyes_ as bright as any cat's took shape in the hazy dark. They turned this way and that as their owners moved forward, pulling their shades off, secure as any feline in their footing. Obviously the shadows were little or no hindrance to them.

Hakuba made a small, choked sound, as if all his previous suppositions and theories had suddenly lodged in his throat.

_SonOfA**Bitch**. I was RIGHT-- Somehow or other they've had contact with the Pandora Gem, every one of 'em. I wondered when I saw all those pairs of shades. Jeeze, that looks creepy… So putting out the lights isn't going to be as much of an advantage as I had hoped…_ The lack of illumination was no hazard for him, but for Hakuba—

_Hang on a sec._ One of the 'guards' had just stumbled over the pediment of a column, reeling a little sideways into a compatriot; he righted himself with a muttered epithet in a foreign tongue, squinting through the dimness. _Maybe their vision's not as good as mine for some reason—I can see clearly, but they're still having a little trouble._

_Well, too bad for them… and too good for _**_me_**_.___ He grinned, feeling feral and on edge. _I can use this._ A hand slid into a coat pocket, pulling out something he had rigged up some time back but never quite had the chance to bring into play. Two fingertips pinched down tightly on a fuse-cap that he had rigged with a tiny, tiny charge of magnesium…

_"So, are you gentlemen here for the flowers or the floorshow?" _he inquired politely of the 'guards,' his voice echoing eerily in the dark. _"I understand the Garden's got some lovely orchids at this time of year… Hakuba-kun? Are you interested in orchids, by any chance?"_

_Closer, closer… let them get a little closer… From the way they're squinting around, they can make out the general shapes of things but not the details. A few more feet….._

"Actually I'm rather more fond of roses," answered the detective warily. From the corner of his eye, the Kid could see him edging along towards the next statue, feeling his way in the dimness; he cursed to himself.

_Dammit, Hakuba, stay where you are!_ Diversion time, diversion time… What had they been talking about? Oh, right, flowers. _"Really? I've always been more the chrysanthemum type, myself; they look so much like fireworks, wouldn't you say?"_ Already the fuse-cap was growing hot beneath his fingertips; stealthily he slid it out, cupping the sparks so close that they burned his palm momentarily as they sprang into life.

The 'guards' were moving together now, only about ten feet from the statues. _"Did you see the flowers growing over by the far statue? You know, the one of Chandra?"_ The Kid bit his lip as the palm of his glove began to char. _It'll heal, it'll heal, it'll heal,_ he chanted to himself; no magician liked to risk his hands. _Just remember that it'll heal, don't be a baby, you can handle a little fire--_

"Where?" queried Hakuba, a note of strain in his voice as he sank down to a crouch prior to an attempt towards the next statue. "Chandra? Is that the one which you just pried the emerald from?"

_"Ah, so you saw that?"_ Was that a faint hint of smoke he was beginning to smell?_ ow ow ow ow…_

"Of course; I had to make certain who you were. Your theft merely confirmed my suspicions."

_Oh right, of course… Stupid wanna-be Sherlock Holmes and their stupid theories; if you had just fallen over like a good little detective I could've dragged you out of the way in a heartbeat, but nooooo, you had to go and make things difficult. _The Kid bit back an 'aaargh' as his palm continued to scorch; he did smell smoke—_… ow ow OWW! Wonderful; Roast Thief, it's what's for dinner—_

He smothered a yelp and called out _"Fine, fine. But did you see the flowers?"_ in an insufferably condescending voice.

It had the desired result. Hakuba sounded positively testy as he replied, "Flowers? _What_ is so bloody important about the flowers?"

_CrapCrapCrapOwHotHotHot!!! OwOWOWCH—here we goOWOWOW--!!!_

Juggling the handful of sparks frantically, he managed to keep his voice quite calm even as his eyes began to tear up. _"Oh, nothing much. It's just that I dropped the emerald that I took right down smack into the middle of 'em. Clumsy me…"_

Bingo. With one accord, the group of guards stiffened and turned towards the statue of Chandra; several of them took a few hasty steps that way, even as (with a gasp of relief) the Kid flung a bright, sputtering handful straight towards the Indian god's bronze feet—

_"Heh heh—ooops, my mistake—seems I didn't drop it after all—"_

**_BDOWBDOWBOOMBOOMPOP!!POP!!POP!!!BdowbDOWboom!!!POP!!! _**The string of modified firecrackers went off in a wild clatter of noise, sparks flying; tucking his scorched hand, the white-clad thief dove for the floor in a long, shallow glide straight for Hakuba (who was currently saying several things that fell outside Kuroba Kaito's English vocabulary). The guards were alternatively shouting, cursing and shooting; several bullets pinged off brass and stone, shattering glass and treebark. Leaves showered down, smelling of cordite. The Kid clothes-lined the half-Brit neatly across the ankles and they both slid across the stone-tiled floor to the next statue as fireflashes from their enemies' guns filled the area behind the gods.

_"Stay DOWN, you twit—"_ The Phantom Thief shoved Hakuba's head down with his burned hand, yelping in pain as he brought the card gun back up. Beneath him the detective was twisting and fighting for all he was worth, trying to get out from under his assailant; with a growl of irritation, the Kid pushed him back down with a distinct _BOPP!!_ of his skull meeting the cold floor beneath. _"Look, do you—rrgh!! STOP it!!-- want to get shot or what?"_

With a tunnel-visioned stolidity that would have brought tears to Inspector Nakamori's eyes, Hakuba paid no attention to the bullets that were currently ricocheting around them. "They're—_mmph!"_ (he shoved aside Kid's hand from his face) "—shooting at you, not me—" A kick at a certain Phantom Thief's vulnerables proved him to be somewhat skilled in the school of Dirty Fighting as well as that of the Manly Art of Fisticuffs; the Kaitou jerked back out of range just in time, eyes wide. "—You're their target— Thieves falling out—"

It had been observed in the past that hand-to-hand combat was not the Kid's forté; he needed to end this fast. Being able to see was something of a help (otherwise he'd be clutching at the aforementioned vulnerables and curled up in a very personal, very intense little world of pain), but fighting Hakuba was like fighting an octopus with fists. And the ricocheting bullets weren't helping either—

As if summoned by the thought, one of the ricochets got lucky about then; something small and too fast to see whined past the Phantom Thief's shoulder as he struggled to keep from getting an elbow in the face, and beneath him Hakuba made a sudden jerking motion, arching up and then flopping back with a strangled sound. _"Hakuba?"_ The detective had gone alarmingly still. _"Dammit, Hakuba, I told you to keep down—"_ His opponent pulled back slightly, trying to see. __

The blond moved then, still attempting to twist out from beneath his pinning weight. "Let—me—GO, I'm supposed to—be trying—rrgh!! –to catch _you,_ not the other—way around—" The detective's voice was raspy and full of anger, nothing like his usual coolly calculated tones, but he was very much alive and breathing; apparently whatever hit he had taken had been less than serious.

_"Hakuba, would you just—whooff!"_ An elbow had found his ribs; twisting sideways, the Kid spent a split second praying that the three or four different kinds of grenades he had in his pockets didn't go off on them _both_ (as dying of a combination of embarrassment and concussion did not fit into his plans for that evening.) Rearing back for a dangerous moment, he yelped as one of the bullets flying around them sent a red-hot line of pain across the skin of his lower left forearm; it was only a graze but it hurt like hell and was, finally, the last straw.

**_"#$%!!"_**

One hand went beneath Hakuba's chin, shoving back and hard as the Kaitou Kid planted the other hand just below the detective's sternum and pushed downwards sharply; the Brit made a "whouf!!" as his breath was abruptly knocked out of his lungs. _"And—**STAY**—down!!"_ hissed the thief, wincing as his injured arm impacted painfully with the edge of a statue pedestal. _"Do I have to tie you up or will you see reason for a change?"_ Angrily he half-dragged, half-crammed the body beneath him forward into a corner formed by a column and the pedestal; it would have to do—there were no other refuges available. Hakuba gasped for breath, trying to talk and failing, and the Kid rolled his eyes as he considered the similarities to his previous heist.

_I have GOT to get out of the habit of rescuing detectives; it's going to ruin my reputation,_ he thought crazily as he peered around the column.

The gunmen were moving forward now; it was time to even the odds a bit more. Steadying himself on the pedestal's edge, the Phantom Thief aimed between two gilded bronze divine feet (he wasn't quite sure at this point which god they were behind, but he hoped that They were on their side) with his cardgun and began firing.

_thwip!! thwipTHWAPthwip!!_ It is a fact that even paper playing-cards, when propelled through the air at a rapid velocity, will do quite a bit of damage if they strike edge-on. Add to them a thin interior layer of lightweight metal and you have something deadly—if you choose to use it in a deadly fashion. Kuroba Kaito was very familiar to the nth degree with just how deeply the Kaitou Kid's ammunition could impact; that was why he was firing at targets that were much harder to hit than torsos and heads: basically, about ten centimeters in front of his opponents' feet. He spent a moment or so gloating at how said opponents did an impromptu jig when four cards (the Ace, Two, Seven and King of Clubs, respectively) sliced into the pavement at their toes; it was rather nice to be on the offensive for a change.

_Almost too nice; better watch that animosity, Thief Boy,_ thought the Kid as he lined up another shot. The black-clad figures dove through the dimness for several support columns, and he slumped back with a sigh of relief, rubbing his grazed left arm (it had healed for the most part already, but the ghost of the pain still lingered). For a few seconds, at least, he had bought them a bit of respite.

ca-_CHAK_

_………..uh-oh……….._

There is something unmistakable about the sound of a weapon being cocked. Turning his head very, very slowly, the Kid swiveled around to stare directly into a short, gleaming gun-barrel; it seemed awfully large. From behind it Hakuba spoke, breathing heavily. "Don't move. I can hardly see you at all, but I don't need to be able to see you very well to aim at this range. You're under arrest."

_"This is true," _observed the Phantom Thief, one eyebrow going up as he ignored Hakuba's last sentence. Not bothering to raise his hands, he sat back against the pedestal and surveyed his fellow refugee sardonically through his monocle, poking inquiringly at the gun-barrel with one gloved finger. _"Since when did you start carrying firearms? It's terribly hard to get a permit for one of these in __Japan__…"_

"It was my grandfather's, a 1916 Webley Mark VI revolver; I inherited it." The weapon gleamed dimly in the shadows. "Stop poking at it and put your hands up."

_"Mmm… shipped it in with a bunch of family momentos, did you? Nice; a bit clumsy, though…"_ The Kid shook his head quite calmly, as if there wasn't the equivalent of a hand-cannon pointed straight at his head. _"I'm afraid I prefer my cardgun; it doesn't run out of ammo nearly as quickly as a revolver."_ Carefully he leaned back a bit and slid up to view the room beyond their refuge; he could just catch a glimpse of a huddle of figures. _"The opposition seems to have settled down for a few minutes, but it won't be long before they're up and ready for another go."_ He glanced back at the detective, an odd little smile going unseen on his face in the dark. _"Hakuba-kun, while I would like nothing better than to play Dodge The Detective with you just now, I believe I have a previous engagement. Would you please put that thing away?"_

"Not bloody likely."

_"Tsk; such language. I'm not fond of bullets, you know; they're a little too final for me."_

"I'm quite aware of that." The blond glanced down towards a place on his upper pants-leg where damp, stained fabric flapped a bit; to the Kid's eyes it looked like a graze—painful but hardly debilitating. "And I'll keep the gun out, thank you. I'm not fond of bullets myself, but I prefer to be armed in a situation like this. Is that why you shoot cards?" He seemed to be thinking hard, if the frown on his face was any indication.

_"Mm?"_ The group of black-suited figures were peering around the columns now; there seemed to be some sort of discussion going on.

"Cards—you've never shot bullets." Slowly the barrel of the antique gun dipped and came to rest across Hakuba's free arm, still in a shooter's position but not actively aimed. The Kid glanced at it and nodded appreciatively; that was Hakuba all over—unwilling to budge an inch when he had the advantage, but able to see logic… even in the dark.

What had he just asked? Cards? _"Ah--I suppose so; it makes things more interesting, anyway… Err, Hakuba-kun? Just how good of a shot would you say that you are?"_

It was really a pity that the detective didn't know how visible his expressions were to the Kaitou's eyes; the most extraordinary one flickered across his face just then, compounded of bafflement and a sort of wary interest. "Quite good; I've been shooting since I was five years old. Why? And you are still under arrest, you know—"

_"Terribly sorry, but I don't have time for that sort of thing right now; I'm far more interested in a truce until this is over."_ He made being arrested sound like remarkably inconsequential, if bothersome. _"And while you may be pig-headed, you're no more an idiot than I am—that's why you've lowered your gun, isn't it?"_

In the dark, Hakuba looked remarkably annoyed. "You do have good night-vision, don't you? And I do not make truces with felons."

The Kaitou Kid chuckled very, very softly. _"'Good night-vision?' You don't know the half of it. And as for a truce-- while we're under fire, I propose that we work together to get out of here alive; after that, all bets are off. Not so much a truce as a cease-fire… Would that suit you better, Hakuba-kun?"_ The Phantom Thief stretched sideways to peer around their refuge again, adding _"I'd make up my mind quickly, if I were you. Our playmates are on the move."_ And they were, too; the first one was easing himself through the shadows, moving among the foliage and stonework like a stalking cat; another followed close behind. _"Well? Not that I'm worried or anything, but I'd just as soon finish this evening with the same number of holes in my body that I started with…"_

The detective across from him made the sort of face that one would make after having bitten into an apple and finding half a worm afterwards. "A… cease-fire." sigh Hakuba fairly exuded reluctance, even in the dark; but he was nothing if not practical, and his opponent silently watched his expression run the gamut from 'extreme distaste' to 'bloody reluctant acceptance.' "…Very well—up to the point where we are no longer being shot at and no further; no further. I take it you have some sort of bizarre plan in mind?"

The Kid laughed again; _"Oh, possibly, possibly… Move over a bit, would you? I need some room to reach behind me."_ Hakuba grunted in annoyance, but slid sideways a little. The grunt turned into a hiss of pain, and he clapped one hand over the graze on his leg. _"It doesn't look like it's bleeding,"_ observed his adversary, rooting around in one of his back-pockets; his own scored forearm really had closed up neatly, and he marveled briefly at the lack of pain as he drew out a small marking-pen from its hiding-place.

Hakuba shook his head irritably; then, mindful of the dark, answered out loud: "It's nothing… How can you see in this—this-- Another of your idiot tricks?" He squinted into the shadowed room; "Black as the bottom of a godforsaken well—"

_"For you, maybe."_ The thief busied himself with his marker; after a moment's work, the cards loaded in his cardgun gleamed foxfire-green, pale and luminous against his white gloves. _"There; can you see these?"_

"Yes… What _is_ that stuff?"

_"Secretarial correction-fluid mixed with glow-in-the-dark paint; it sticks better than the paint does by itself."_ He closed the marker with a faint click and made it vanish, cocking his cardgun with a businesslike air. It was a very odd thing, he considered, that he and Hakuba seemed far more capable of getting along when they were playing the parts of Detective and Thief rather than those of classmates.

_Go figure…_

Drawing a deep breath, he glanced at the other. _"Now: the object of this next little exercise is to keep our little friends out there from killing us AND from running away; I'm certain that Nakamori-kun will want to talk with them about this and that. Are you ready? I'm going to start firing; aim where the cards are—and I promise not to hit anything vital, just hands and feet. I want them disabled, not dead."_

The detective looked at him with all the trust that a chicken would offer a fox who had just solemnly sworn to become a vegetarian; the thief snickered. _"No, REALLY. No tricks. Shoot where I shoot; I promise you, I'll be picking my targets carefully."_ The gunmen were halfway around the room now; with commendable calmness he added _"—and I would really consider cooperating very quickly; we don't have much time before it becomes a moot point."_

Hakuba Saguru ran one thumb across his revolver's barrel, checking the load; "So you say… And why," he answered carefully, spacing out the words, "should I believe that you can see that well? Even with an infrared viewer built into your monocle or some other idiot James Bond gadget of the sort—"

The Kid sighed. _"Oh, be that way. Fine, fine; watch closely—I'm only going to do this once. We really ARE running out of time." _Bringing the luminous cards up to his eyes, he stared directly into the other's face across their glow; from his previous experiments with flashlights and mirrors, he had a pretty good idea of what Hakuba was about to face.

_"Take a good look, detective….. I don't need gadgets to see in the dark. Not anymore."_

And he grinned, eyes reflecting like twin blue flames in the faint, ghostly glow of his cards.

_"See?"_

Hakuba's reaction was all that the thief could have hoped for; he choked on whatever he had been about to say, jerking his head back and smacking it on the column behind him. _"Yes, quite," _said the Kid mildly, just as if the other had spoken. _"So shall we get on with it? They're in range, which means that we are as well."_

"Ah…. right." There was a slightly unnerved note to the blond's voice that the Phantom Thief had never heard before; apparently even Hakuba had his limits. He recovered well, though, pulling himself up to his knees with a hitch of pain in his breath as his wounded leg began to bleed again; the Kid frowned slightly at how easily he could smell the blood, then shrugged it off as unimportant.

The black figures across the room were advancing, eyes glittering coldly in the dark. Whatever argument they had had was apparently over and no longer slowing them down at all; in chilling silence and more surefooted than before, their guns were held ready.

The half-Brit positioned himself against the back of the pedestal, resting his gun in a double-handed hold between the statue's bronze feet as his temporary partner had a little before. There was a grim set to his face, and a definite pallor that the Kid's eyes could pick out even in the dark. _He's never used that weapon—any weapon, probably—against a person. Not to actually shoot them, I mean, and he's not happy about it. Neither am I… but the whole purpose of this heist was to catch a handful of Black Org types and hand 'em over to the police. Much as I hate people getting hurt in any way, I think I can deal with it this time._

_Can Hakuba, though?_

_"Are you going to be able to do this, Hakuba-kun?"_ He kept his voice quiet and level, neither condemning nor teasing… just this once. _"If not, maybe you'd better—"_

"Just-- shut up and give me a target to aim for."

Hakuba's jaw was clenched hard enough to give him a toothache and there was a muscle twitching in his left eyebrow. The Kaitou's own eyebrows went up; he blinked once, swallowed the retort that had automatically sprung to his lips and nodded to himself. _"Fine…"_ He brought the cardgun up, positioning it beside Hakuba's own weapon; they crouched shoulder-to-shoulder, tweed wool rasping against ghostly white silk. The luminous edges of the cards glimmered in the dark as the Phantom Thief gritted his teeth, aiming carefully. He could feel his palms sweating through his gloves.

_No shooting in front of their feet this time; this time I have to play for keeps. God, I hate hurting people._

_"Ready? Steady….. **now!"**_

{}

Outside, Nakamori had finally gotten a clue: There was no possible way that God hated him so much that He would inflict the Inspector with five actual Kaitou Kids, which meant that at least four of them were fakes.

Which four? He didn't give a flying—well, never mind. Not important, especially when four of the said five Phantom Thieves were currently dive-bombing him and his Task Squad like the proverbial bats out of Hell, laughing madly all the while. Nobody could move like that, not on a hang-glider, not on a rocket-pack or while wearing a goddamn Superman cape—they were HOVERING. And while four of the sons-of-bitches had been chasing his men all over the place, one of the flying miseries had targeted him specifically. And last but not least, _something_ was going on inside the goddamned Conserva-whatsis, too, if the bright flashes and sudden blackness was any indication; breathing hard, Nakamori scrambled to his feet from an impromptu dive to the ground and started towards the door—

**_"--#$%&$!!"_** Not again—

Picking himself up from his involuntary nosedive into a particularly scratchy piece of lawn, the head of the Kaitou Kid Task Force let loose a barrage of invective that should have not only scorched the earth around him but laid it to waste, salted it, and allowed not so much as a blade of grass to grow there for the next three decades. His hair was sticking up, he had a large smear of what smelled suspiciously like extremely organic compost across his nose, and altogether Nakamori was lacking in that certain air of dignity that usually surrounds a man of his rank.

**"#$%##!!! I—HAVE—%$&#!!ING—HAD—ENOUGH!!!"**

The echoes were amazing; even the five swooping, diving white fiends seemed to pause momentarily as every Task Force squadmember turned towards Nakamori from where they were cowering, crawling beneath bushes, regrouping with their fellows or just dead-out running like crazy. They looked at the Inspector; then they looked at each other significantly and as one squad hunkered down a little closer to the ground. The inevitable had, at long last, happened; Nakamori Ginzo had finally **lost** it and there was going to be hell to pay.

At least they would all have front-row seats…

"RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"

The Inspector ripped out a sizeable post of wood which had been helping to support a nearby sapling, neatly tagged as _Spathodea campanulata;_ swinging the post like an overlong _bokkan,_ Nakamori roared his defiance and charged the nearest airborne tormenter. It dodged, grinning mockingly from behind its monocle as its silvery cape flowed around it like so much smoke.

"Not—gonna—get—away—_THIS_ time," snarled the Inspector; he jabbed upwards, snagging the cloak; his assailant wavered in the air, flipping around and tumbling through the air with an odd, whirring sound; its expression did not change, and it finally occurred to Nakamori (now that he was getting a look at it that did not involve diving for cover) that there was something… odd… about the Kid's face.

…..something familiar….. Had the Kid always had a—

_A moustache? and… bushy eyebrows… since when does the Kid smoke a pipe? In fact, it… kind of…….. That looks like….. me?_

_"YAAAAARRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHH!!!"_

The plant-post jabbed upwards into the captured figure; there was a peculiar _VWRRIII-I-I-PPP!!!sssssss_ and Inspector Nakamori Ginzo was treated to a sight that would haunt his dreams for years to come:

**_B L A A A A P !!!_**

--as the Nakamori-masked Kaitou Kid _exploded_ into a thousand shreds of white plastic, fabric and tiny machine parts. The Inspector stood appalled, scraps of mangled cloak and still-hot wires decorating his hair as a gust of smoke and helium briefly scented the air; then, with a wordless yell of victory, he charged towards the nearest airborne Kid-figure to test out his newest Phantom Thief elimination method. Taking heart, those members of the squad that were still on their feet surged after him, snatching at all available sticks, posts, and the occasional _Please Do Not Litter_ sign.

It was time to play a new version of Dogpile-On-the-Bandit, and THIS time they might actually _get_ somewhere—

{}

"Did he _have_ to make the dummies look like my father?"

Jii quirked an eyebrow; his mask mimicked the action. "What do you think, Aoko-kun? Of course he did."

"Right….." Aoko sighed, biting her lip and fiddling with her useless controls; the balloon that she had been pursuing her parent with was nothing more than scrap at this point. "Shall I take over one of the others? We can't just herd the squadmembers anymore, they're going to be fighting back a little harder—"

The old thief in the pilfered uniform shook his head. "No need, though it's a kind thought; I suspect that the decoys are about to serve their final purpose any minute now…"

Tapping at the mike-unit on his helmet, he spoke in a low voice: "Knave to Ace—is everything all right down there?" The microphone crackled once as it transmitted his words. There was a momentary pause; then:

_szzzt-pop! "Ace here—all systems go; keep to the schedule on your end."_ More crackling, several dull noises that sounded unhappily like gunshots, and—_"Wait for my signal-- We're having a bit of trouble, but we'll be done in a sec—"_ The transmission trailed off into a series of muted crashes, leaving the two listeners staring at the microphone.

Aoko swallowed hard behind her mask. "We?"

Jii nodded, eyes crinkling in satisfaction. "'We'. One of the first things one learns as a Phantom Thief is that, no matter what, all plans are subject to change. The trick, however, is to _adapt; _and the Young Master has apparently done just that." He chuckled and leaned a little further over onto the windowsill, propping his rifle into place. "One finds oneself with the oddest allies sometimes…"

Slightly reassured, the Inspector's daughter nodded as well and turned up the volume on her receiver, listening carefully. Aoko's heightened hearing caught nothing but a flurry of crashes and muffled thuds for a few seconds, interspersed with the occasional muttered exclamation.

Then an irritated voice came through, muffled but understandable and appallingly familiar. Her jaw dropped—

_Oh **NO.** Hakuba-kun?!?_

{}

"So—" _bang!!_ "—you DO have accomplices. I thought as much—" Hakuba growled at his temporary ally as he fumbled in a pocket for more ammunition. "You're a fool if you think we'll be exiting the building so quickly, though." He hitched himself a little higher against the back of their refuge, hissing in pain as his injured leg was jostled. "I take it you have a radio somewhere in that ridiculous outfit of yours?"

The Kid snorted and aimed again without replying. _thwippthwip!!_ He had realized that Hakuba would overhear the transmission, but there had been no way of preventing it; they were too close together for him not to catch at least a little. _At least it wasn't Aoko talking—_

_thwip!_

The relatively soft sound of the cardgun was followed almost instantly by the sharp sound of Hakuba's antique revolver again and yet again; the Phantom Thief winced away from the fireflash and noise, but gritted his teeth and kept on shooting. _I've got to make these count; there may be 52 cards in a deck, but I can only load about a quarter of that at a time and Hakuba'll run out of ammo a lot faster than I will, no matter how much he has stocked away in that tweed tent of his._

Two of the gunmen were already down, cursing and moaning over their damaged, bleeding feet in a foreign tongue; their cries mingled with the echoes of their compatriots' gunshots, Hakuba's overly-loud Webley and the _thwip!_ of flying cards. The Kid coughed, turning his face into his shoulder; the combined smells of blood, cordite, crushed plants and hot metal was beginning to get to him; _Sensory overload,_ he thought a little dizzily as he took aim again.

The remaining 'guards' had taken refuge behind a fallen statue, pushed over with a huge crash during their mad scurry for cover when they realized that they were not the only gunmen in the room. Hakuba had made strangled noises when a flash from one of the fireworks still going off in the sky outside had shown Vishnu's impassive, gilded face lying among a rubble of ruined limbs and pedestals. _"What? Are you surprised that they replaced the statues with replicas? And here I thought you were the intelligent spike in the grade curve… It's not like the East Indian Government would actually risk a national treasure to a possible theft, now, would they? A rich man's private collection is one thing; but religious effigies that belong to the country—no."_ His monocle had flashed an eerie blue as he had chuckled, aiming again; _"And besides, If I understand correctly, this isn't exactly the first time the statues have been targeted—look at all those lovely jewels, after all…"_

"You—KNEW they were fakes?" The detective's normally rather bland face was furious as he reloaded his revolver.

_"Mmmhmmm… They replaced them about two weeks ago. In the dead of night, I might add, with the utmost security."_ The Phantom Thief had squinted through the dark, carefully placing his next shot: _thwipp!!_ An answering crack of gunfire had made him jerk back, cursing briefly; his hat now had a growing collection of scorch-marks and rips along the top.

"—'utmost security' my—" Hakuba had bit off his reply at his erstwhile ally's chuckle; "Which you circumvented, of course."

_"They were a little short-handed and the replicas were awfully heavy"_ answered the Kid in a saintly voice, piety dripping from his words;_ "It was only neighborly of me to help out. Who notices an extra pair of hands when you're moving a two-hundred-kilo plaster god?" thwipp thwipp!! "I was bargaining on the fact that our little playmates out there either were not aware of the substitution—"_ he had paused briefly to shift his aim, _"—or were aware but thought that I might not know. Either way they'd show up, correct?"_

The detective had not dignified this with a reply, being too busy reloading his revolver; his face, however, had been a wonderful study in frustration. It was times like this, the Kid had thought happily as he leveled his cardgun again, that made the whole thing worthwhile…

That, however, had been ten minutes or so ago; now they were both low on ammo, two of the bad guys were down and bleeding, and trickles of sweat were making their way from down the back of the Phantom Thief's neck.

_And I'm gonna have to get a new hat, too. Absolute bastards._

Six cards remained; their edges glowed dimly in the smoky, shadowy room. _"Hakuba? How are you holding out?"_

The blond gritted his teeth, focusing; his trigger-finger jerked and a bullet went _bDOWw!!_ as it pinged off a steel column beside a hastily pulled-back leg (a bleeding leg, for that matter; the Nine of Clubs was currently protruding from just above the knee, accompanied by much pained cursing). "Three bullets left—"

_"Wonderful." _Two down, three still standing (not counting wounds); and the fireworks-slash-balloon-chase outside the Conservatory wouldn't hold off Nakamori and his lot forever. Unless they wanted the Inspector to come charging in to a hail of bullets, they were going to have to do something… drastic.

Fireworks— _Hmmmmmm………. Ahah; **that** might work. I remember tripping over a hose right about—there. And it's full, must be connected to a timer or something, which means it's under pressure-- "Hey, Hakuba? Do you still have your little electric-frisbies-thingie?"_

"It's called a taser-- and yes, I do. Here—" The detective dragged it out of a pocket, shoving it blindly in the direction of the Kid. "No, don't bother telling me what you want to do with it, just _do _it."

_"Awfully trusting, aren't you? How sweet."_ White-gloved fingers pulled the long wires and their attached discs out, carefully flicking off the power beforehand. _"What's the voltage on this thing?"_

"180,000 volts; it's based on an American police-model, a Talon—"

The Kid nodded briefly, hands still busy; he had heard of the brand—it was amazing what you could find on the Internet these days. Thin steel wires gleamed faintly in his hands as he positioned them with care, gauging distance and weight. Two bullets pinged off the statue above them, which was showing signs of wear; plaster chips showered down. _"Hakuba? Pay attention. I know you can't see clearly, but I'm going to put your little toy here to use and I'm afraid that means you're going to have to trust me again."_

"……………" The barrel of Hakuba's revolver dipped as he slid down behind the chipped pedestal. "Just what I wanted to hear…. What now?" Breathing hard, the detective turned a set face towards him; beads of sweat were visible to the thief's night-seeing eyes as they sheened the other's forehead.

The Phantom Thief regarded his reluctant partner quizzically, revised several plans and methods in his head, and nodded to himself. _"Here—hang onto my cloak, and when we start moving, do NOT let go. I'm about to drive our little friends with the guns out of the building."_ The blond growled but complied; one hand fisted itself tightly in the silky fabric of the Kid's white cape, and the thief considered wryly that Hakuba had finally managed to get his hands on him. Not that they were going to _stay_ that way, but— _"Ready? On my count of three, then… "_ He straightened a little, his own hands poised; this would be on the far side of tricky—

_"One—Two—"_ The small discs went frisbeeing through the air like miniature flying-saucers, trailing hair-thin lines behind them; involuntarily the gunmen's heads whipped around to follow their flight. As they clattered to the ground a little ways past their enemy's hiding places, the three remaining black-jacketed men cautiously looked up again; one of them motioned to the other two, and they began to move forward once more.

A wicked, unseen grin spread across the Kaitou Kid's face as he watched. _"Beautiful. Aaaand…. THREE!!" _Up came the cardgun, down came its muzzle, targeting a certain thick rubber hose running along the front of the ornamental flowerbeds, one whose heavy burden of pressurized water had been noticed when he had tripped over it earlier—

_thwipp!!_

_sploosh!!_

--and as water suddenly splashed across the stone floor of the Conservatory's display area, he _clicked_ a certain switch on Hakuba's taser-gun to 'ON.'

**_ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTTTTTTT!!!_**

Sparks arced and fireworked, accompanied by yells from three figures who suddenly jerked upright from their hiding places; one gun bounced on the floor, splashing in the flood at their feet as the water-borne electricity from the taser crackled through their bodies. Their cries of anguish echoed against the glass ceiling overhead and the Phantom Thief laughed a brief, humorless laugh as he dragged Hakuba upright; the detective had one hand to his face, rubbing at his dazzled eyes and blinking. _"THAT ought to do it—Let's go!"_ He dropped the taser and they ran, staggering, towards the Conservatory door.

There were bushes to either side of the doorway; the blond yelped as he was dragged sideways into them at the last second. "What the _hell _are you—"

_"Shut up and stay DOWN this time!"_ The thief planted a gloved hand on top of his head for the second time that night and shoved him flat. _"Here they come—"_

The now-sodden taser short-circuited itself very quickly, but by then the damage had been done. Demoralized, panicked and shouting at each other in angry voices, the three remaining gunmen fought past bushes, statues and debris for the exit—and totally ignored any rustling sounds on the way there. Deep in the foliage, one finger pressed a relay; the tiny magnetic lock which had been previously placed on the door instantly disengaged, and the Kid's jubilant voice whispered into his microphone:

_"Knave? Knave, are you listening? **NOW**."_

{}

High up in the clock-tower, words crackled from a microphone and Jii's eyes narrowed; swiftly he pressed the green button which had been blinking at him ever since the Kid had closed the Conservatory door behind him. "There. All remaining decoys have been disengaged from remote and set on auto—"

Beside him Aoko gripped her rifle with both hands, sweating beneath her mask. "—!!!—"_ OhGodohGodohGodherewego--_

"Ahh—_breath,_ Aoko-kun; the young master will be terribly disappointed if you pass out during his heist. I believe he wants to show off a bit for you and he doesn't get the chance to do that sort of thing very often. _Ever,_ actually." Jii patted her shoulder with a comforting hand, but kept his sharp eyes fixed on the doorway far below even as he smiled. "So please, do pay attention, hm?"

_'Show off for me?' Some girls get flowers, but instead I'M getting breaking-and-entering, Grand Theft and multiple cases of assault as a present. OhGodohGodohGod--_

_{}_

It happened like this:

_Firstly:_ The airborne decoys suddenly wavered in their flight as electronic impulses brought new sets of orders; as one balloon, they turned and dove straight towards the Conservatory, followed by a confused mass of stampeding Taskforce members.

_Secondly:_ The Conservatory door burst open, releasing several black-jacketed, angry men waving guns; the Taskforce members (headed by Nakamori, who (as always) was in the lead) saw this and reacted accordingly, i.e., many rifle-barrels suddenly swung towards the gunmen like so many compass-needles pointing north.

_Thirdly:_ The gunmen, blinking and more than half-blinded by their sudden exit into the open (where fireworks still bloomed overhead, if a little less frequently than before), piled into each other in confusion about fifteen feet outside the doorway. There was a pause.

_And Fourthly:_ The remaining decoy-balloons reached the proximity of the door (and, more importantly, that of the small magnetic-lock-slash-transmitter which the Kid had previously placed on the inside and had just released and activated). And the signal being emitted from the device took final effect, executing the balloons' last instruction—

**_BAM!!! BAMBAMBAMM!!!_**

It is a fact that, should one be in the position of being divebombed by four life-sized balloons powered by small motors, one should NOT be there when said balloons explode. Unfortunately for the gunmen, they did not know this. Neither did the Taskforce members, but then they _were_ wearing armored and padded coveralls and also had the benefit of being several yards back when the mechanisms in the decoys detonated. The explosions weren't really that big; but they were big enough to knock the gunmen senseless for a few minutes—

--long enough, in fact, for Nakamori's men to apply handcuffs, stare down at their dazed and stunned captives, scratch their heads and go _"Huh?"_

{}

Back inside the Conservatory—

--the Kaitou Kid was doing a Victory Dance.

"Would you STOP that?" said Hakuba Saguru irritably, still rubbing at his eyes; he extracted himself from the bushes, spitting out a leaf. "You sound a right imbecile, you know. You might at least show a little dignity—"

_"Dignity, Hell! Do you have ANY idea how hard I've been working to get those bastards into Nakamori's hands?"_ retorted the thief from where he had been doing his own wild variety of a jig on the edge of a pedestal, his arm linked through one of the god Chandra's four elbows. _"I DID IT!! WE DID IT!! YEEHAAAAAAH!!!"_ From the microphone hidden in his tie there came a blare of static as two other signals tried to contact him at the same time.

Hakuba limped forward, eyeing him sardonically. "And that was the entire focus of tonight's little venture, I presume? Getting 'those bastards' into police custody? Not a theft at all, especially if you already knew that the statues were fakes." He paused, leaning against a damaged pedestal in the half-light that came through the open door and holstering his revolver beneath his coat. "Obviously there's something going on here that I'm not quite privy to—as yet—but I'm surprised that you're willing to send them into the authorities' hands if you wanted them that badly. Don't you want to question them yourself?"

The dancing figure abruptly came to a halt, and the Kid's monocle threw back light from the doorway in a sudden, startling gleam as he pointed a long white finger at the detective. _"Don't tempt me; I have very good reasons for not wanting to be able to get my hands on them."_ The laughing voice went suddenly sober, a little shaky. _"Neither you nor I would want to see what I might do to them… given the chance….. Y'see, I really do have reasons to hate those bastards and the ones they work for; who knows what might happen?" _A little mockery crept in, or more than a little; it tasted of bitterness. _"It's better that they stay in Nakamori's keeping; it really is."_ And he laughed a faint, depreciating laugh, raising his head to stare out the door at the activity beyond.

_"For now, anyway."_

It was oddly silent in the darkened Conservatory for a long moment; Hakuba blinked once, pushing away a fleeting awareness of what almost felt like a truth that even he would hesitate to learn. The wariness faded, though, under the pressure of the curiosity that had always driven the detective throughout his life. "'Those bastards and the ones they work for…' So they're not working alone, then--? I thought as much, what with my recent watchers and so forth. Be sure I'll pass that along to Nakamori when he questions them." The Kid merely nodded, a brief little smile flickering across his face in the shadows. Hakuba crossed his arms and nodded back at him, one eyebrow rising; his usual annoyance at having to deal with a wanted criminal was beginning to return. "Mmph. You're going to disappoint your idiot fans at this rate, though; one would almost take you for a law-abiding citizen when you do something as—as uncriminal as this—"

The Phantom Thief grinned down at him mockingly. _"Oooooh, I just love it when you talk dirty, Hakuba-chan."_ Ignoring the detective's sputters, he swung himself down lightly onto the pavement and glanced around. The pink mist from earlier had mostly dispersed by now; and as a single white firework went off overhead, the momentary scatter of light made shadows shiver and ripple like water. The Kid stepped carefully over a chunk of substitute god, peering at a sleeping Taskforce squadmember; throughout the entire skirmish the four had slept like babies, and not one of them had taken a ricochet.

_Thank God._

Breathing a sigh of relief, the thief rubbed at his tired eyes; he had worried about the taser-shock affecting Nakamori's men as well, but none of them looked any the worse for wear and at least one was beginning to show signs of stirring. He nodded appreciatively at their heavy coveralls; _I guess it's not too surprising that Nakamori made sure his guys were protected against electric shock—these outfits are pretty good, really. Looks like they got some of the charge, but not nearly as much as the baddies. Cool._

"Alright, are they?" Hakuba had limped over to one of the fallen attackers; the black-jacketed man lay in a huddled heap, groggy and bleeding from no less than three embedded cards in the hands and feet (an Ace and a pair, the Kid noted with a wince) and two gunshot wounds in the legs. The blond detective was doing his best to secure their fallen foe with something that at first appeared to be a handcuff but which, as the Kid blinked and took a closer look, actually seemed to be—

_"A nylon locking-strap?" _he asked with interest. The ridged strip of strong plastic was the sort of thing you usually used to secure hardware or packed items, but it seemed to be doing the trick.

Hakuba shrugged, his hands busy. "Whyever not? They work well enough, they're not nearly as bulky as handcuffs, one can purchase them easily and they transport well. And they're simple enough for me to apply without much use of vision," he answered practically; that was Hakuba all over. The detective raised a wry eyebrow as he knelt to bind the man's feet. "I haven't your advantages of sight, after all… and speaking of which, just how—" He raised his head, beginning to stand…

…and _THAT_ was when the Kid's darkness-attuned eyes caught a glimpse of something just beyond Hakuba, something that the other could not have seen: movement, the flash of pale eyeshine in the shadows, a streak of silver coming up, leveling out, flipping forward—

--and Hakuba was saying something, that irritable face of his turning towards the light, the line of his torso showing clear in the faint illumination—

The thief was moving before he knew it; and somehow Hakuba must have realized (a glimpse of reflection, who knew? Probably not even him) that something had gone wrong. His head whipped around, and with an inarticulate yell HE threw himself forward along the same angle—

The detective and the thief collided in mid-air with the thrown knife and simultaneous yelps of pain, each one shielding the other with their arm; Hakuba staggered backwards to land backside-first on the still-drenched floor. The Kid regained his balance first, swearing and clutching at his freely-bleeding right arm; without even a momentary pause his left hand yanked the knife free, flipped it end-over end and threw—

_WHOPP!!_

--and a black-jacketed body settled back onto the floor with a sigh like a tire being deflated.

Already wide in pain, Hakuba Saguru's eyes bugged out even more; that had been a knife. Surely the Kid hadn't just--?

He scrambled to his feet and staggered over to their downed assailant even as he attempted to check his own damage. A sliced forearm, nothing more… and he breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that the figure on the floor was only unconscious; he could hear him breathing.

_"Don't worry; I flipped the knife and—ow! OW ow! Dammit!—got him on the forehead with the hilt, not the blade." _The thief was apparently checking out his own wounded arm.

"Good—with—projectiles, aren't you?" The blond detective gritted his teeth, biting back a more profane response as he attempted to tie up his ruined coat-sleeve around his bleeding forearm. It didn't feel too deep, but it was hard to tell in the darkened room; one of the plastic locking-straps helped, though.

_"This from—ow!—somebody who has personally seen me juggle three sets of handcuffs, a smoke-grenade and Nakamori's pipe—lit—and then toss them one after—shit, I hate knives—another down the Inspector's shirt? Of course I am-- OW."_ The thief let loose a stream of invective that crossed several languages and then backtracked through them, just to make sure nothing had been missed. _"—goddamn #$%&ing piece of crap; hope I gave him a headache the size of __Tokyo__ International—"_

Hakuba bit back a hiss of pain as he peeled the bloodied cloth away from his forearm, breathing a sigh of relief; so far as he could tell in the limited light, the damage wasn't too bad, just a deep slice. The _thief's_ arm, on the other hand—they had managed to bleed all over each other's arms; he hoped that larceny was not a blood-born disease. "You should get that looked at; you did take the brunt of the blow. And I'm quite sure that the officers at the Police Infirmary would be more than happy to treat you," he suggested ironically, tugging the plastic strap a little tighter.

The Kid made a face, mostly hidden beneath the shade of his hatbrim. _"Heh; they'd probably just wrap it up with a charge-sheet and force me to take the most disgusting-tasting medicine they could find, just to get back at me for all the times I've screwed them over."_ He dabbed at the wound carefully with one corner of his cloak; to Hakuba's eyes it seemed to be bleeding remarkably less than he would have expected. _"But thanks for the concern anyway, detective. And, ahh, for trying to block the blade."_ And he smiled just for a moment, a real smile and not the usual mocking, superior Kid's smile. Kuroba's smile, actually visible (if briefly) through the shadows of the thief's guise.

That rattled Hakuba a little; masks were supposed to stay on until they were pulled off. But then, this whole night had been… unsettling. "One good turn deserves another, I suppose; you tried to block it as well," muttered the detective, brushing aside the moment of brief camaraderie. "And as for the medicine, my Aunt Sophronia back in Dartmor always said that if it didn't taste dreadful, how else could you tell that it was good for you?" He tied off his own shirt-sleeve tightly around his scored arm, fingering the tweed of his damaged coat mournfully.

The Phantom Thief shrugged once, glancing up at the still-open door; outside, the three thugs were being carried away towards the park entrance. No-one had come in yet, but it was clearly only a matter of time. _"Bitter medicine; I suppose so,"_ he said softly. _"Some things you just have to deal with, even if they taste bad at the time."_

"Hmm?"

_"Ehh… nothing; never mind. That is—" _For half a second or so the Kid did something that was very rare, at least for him: he hesitated. Hakuba stared at him, frowning; an abrupt expression of realization and wariness began to cross his face, and he opened his mouth—only to be cut off as the other shrugged a fatalistic shrug. _"Oh well….. Here, Hakuba: for your good health. Catch!"_

And he tossed something white and egg-shaped at the detective, who instinctively held out his good hand to catch it.

_POP! _The 'egg' exploded as it made contact and the air was suddenly full of sticky, tough strands of something resembling netting, if netting came with a thorough coating of extremely sticky glue; it settled over the dismayed teenager with limb-tangling tenacity, clinging everywhere it touched. He thrashed, falling to his knees and swearing volubly in both Japanese and English as the thin webbing stuck to his clothing, hair, skin and itself, disabling him as effectively as a web does a struggling housefly—he did half the work himself. Within seconds, all the Brit could do anymore was lie more-or-less still and glare up at the thief who stood looking apologetically down at him.

_"Sorry, Hakuba-kun,"_ said the Kaitou Kid rather regretfully. _"But the cease-fire IS over now, you know. And you can thank your Aunt Sophronia for reminding me of that fact."_

{}

_Mmph._ Still breathing hard, Inspector Nakamori Ginzo glared at his catch for the evening as they were assisted to their feet by several grim-faced Taskforce members. 'Assisted', because they were bleeding from several wounds here and there, and also because they were currently handcuffed.

So far as the Inspector was concerned, armed gunmen who had _not_ received the blessings of the Police Force were about as welcome at one of the Kid's heists as meter-long biting ants were at a picnic; on the other hand, if these guys had anything to do (which was likely) with the bastards that had shot up the previous two heists (yeah, VERY likely; and he liked the thought), then he was absolutely delighted to get his hands on them.

He grinned a sharklike grin with no humor in it whatsoever beneath his moustache, wiping away sweat from his forehead with the back of one grass-stained hand. _They_ weren't going to be too delighted, not by the time he was finished with them. _Right; 'seven wounded, two dead.' I haven't forgotten, not for a single #$%&!ing second. Let's just get you three in a nice, safe interrogation room and we'll see what you have to tell me about seven wounded, two dead._

The gunmen's closed faces were hard as fists; Nakamori approached the one that had led their charge from the building, a short, dark-skinned man in a black jacket that was showing signs of being much the worse for wear. "Got anything you'd like to tell me before we haul your asses to jail?" he inquired almost politely; the Taskforce personnel restraining the three captives shifted uneasily—it was never, ever a good sign when the Inspector got polite.

No response; the man's eyes were as flat and unresponsive as asphalt. To either side his cohorts also kept silent.

"Right. We'll see how long that lasts. You three damn sure aren't the guards that were here earlier—I've been dealing with their shit for days, so I should know. They weren't armed, either." Nakamori's eyes were just as hard and ungiving, and his lips thinned to a tight, straight line. "Want to explain just what was going on in there?"

Nothing.

"No? Fine." He jerked his chin at several of the squadmembers that stood nearby. "You lot—follow me. And get these three into custody—wouldn't want them wandering anywhere; we have a long, long talk ahead of us." And he smiled again at the prisoners.

Once again, nothing. Nakamori shrugged and led the way into the conservatory, gun at the ready.

{}

"Three in the alley to the north; two are on rooftops one block apart, the third's on a fire-escape. I've spotted a black car on Kitayama and there are two vans circling the area whose license-plates seem to be deliberately obscured. They're keeping low, and I suspect they'll disappear if they can't achieve their objectives, probably with insider help. Do you read me?"

Jii paused, listening to his receiver; at the soft response he frowned. "You'd better hurry, then. Do you need a diversion?............. Ah." One disguised eyebrow went up and he glanced sideways, a trace of mischief in his eyes. "We'll buy you a few minutes, then. Knave out."

His companion in the clock-tower fidgeted slightly under his look. _Uh oh. _ "…Jii-san?"

"Mhmmm; well, why not?" The man's old eyes twinkled, mischief sharpening into purpose without losing one iota of amusement. He really _was_ an awful lot like Kaito. "Aoko-kun, there's something I need to do; tell me, how would you like to take a more, ahh, active part in tonight's work?"

The Inspector's daughter had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. _But I said I could handle this… and I'm already an accessory, right? So--_ She took a deep breath. "O-okay… What do you need me to do?"

"Nothing too difficult; you'll probably enjoy it, in fact. Do you remember a certain device that the young Master called a 'doodlebug'? I believe it's in your right pocket-- Yes, that's the one. It's designed to home in on a bug hidden inside your father's cellphone… Now, first we need to decide just how upset we want your father to get."

"???"

"It's a matter of distance; there are three settings. I believe the young Master programmed the default as, ehh, 'Annoyed', which is a three-meter clearance; however, there's also the two-meter 'Pissed Off' mark. And of course there's the 'Mad Dog' setting, which is a mere one meter's clearance— Which do you think would be most appropriate in this situation?"

{}

"Oh, _Hell,"_ breathed Inspector Nakamori Ginzo almost reverently as the emergency-lights were switched on; the Conservatory was a freaking MESS. Broken glass, chunks of damaged gods everywhere (it was a good thing he knew they were fakes or he'd be on his way to a bodybag via sheer shock by now), leaves and gun-cartridges and God-only-knew-what lying everywhere underfoot, not to mention several groaning Taskforce members who were shaking off the debris and sitting up with the help of their fellow squadron-members. Nobody seemed to be bleeding—

--except for the two still figures lying in welters of glass and water halfway behind two of the ruined statues. Gaping wounds in their heads showed the manner of their deaths, and the still-warm gun in one corpse's hand provided the killer's identity. _First the other guy, then himself,_ thought the Inspector grimly. And it did not make matters any better that both had obviously been incapacitated through the wickedly-sharp cards sticking in their feet and ankles as well as by several smaller gunshot wounds in the same area.

_What happened here while we were flailing around like goddamn morons out on the lawn? And where's Hakuba? And that Hattori boy? And WHERE THE HELL IS THE KID?!? _

He had already sent officers into the wings of the Conservatory, but it was really for form more than anything else—the Kid had been and gone and left him twisting in the wind. _The Commissioner's going to have my head on a platter for this, _he thought glumly. _And my ass on a griddle, with my ego frying on the side. But at least we got three of the bastards that've been doing the shooting, I'd bet my badge on it._ When the bodies of the dead gunmen from the previous heist had disappeared from the morgue, it had opened several lines of investigation; the total lack of anything other than dead ends had told its own tale, indicating just how deep probable complicity and corruption at that level had gone.

_Well, now we've got live ones—AND two bodies. They say the dead tell no tales; we'll see._ It bothered him in an edgy, slightly horrified kind of way that for the second time one of the unknown assailants had not only killed his partner but turned his weapon on himself. What the hell kind of fear could make a guy do _that?_ What kind of disclosure was worse than suicide?

Nakamori set his jaw, staring blankly at a card embedded in a nearby column; it was the Jack of Diamonds, and the stylized face seemed to offer a mocking smile. That brought up the other Question Of The Day: Why had the Kid done so much damage—actually inflicted physical, bleeding injuries—to the unknown assailants? One thing he had always counted on, no matter what: the Phantom Thief did _not_ like to see people hurt, not even his enemies.

Why were these guys different? And then there were the gunshot-wounds… Small-calibre, with very odd shell-casings; frowning, the Inspector picked one up and examined it with one bushy eyebrow on the rise. Who the hell would use an antique British pistol—

British— His eyes widened and he groaned out loud. _Ahhhh shit._

"Hakuba!" he barked out at two of his squadmembers. "Find me Hakuba RIGHT NOW. And the Hattori kid." They saluted and left, talking rapidly into their radios; behind them, their commanding officer groaned a second time and rubbed at his eyes.

_Cards and gunshot-wounds, side by side; you don't have to be a genius to read that message. Somehow they both got pinned down together and cooperated—or at least, shot at the same targets. Now the question is, where the #$%&!! Are they?!?_ With a growl, he stomped over to stare out the front door again, glaring at the activity outside as if the Kid and Hakuba could be expected to suddenly sprout like dandelions from the lawn.

Not that that was particularly unlikely for the Kid, of course. _Hakuba,_ on the other hand….. No. Just no.

_Aaaargh…… Stupid bastards, the both of them; one's as bad as the other…….._

This was turning out to be a very, _very_ long night.

{}

It was a pity that Nakamori was so distracted, actually; otherwise he might have noticed the carefully-cut piece of glass which had been removed and then replaced from the back wall of the Conservatory. But then, he was a busy man, and it _was_ rather dark back there.

_{}_

_"There we go; got away scott-free, and it doesn't look like there were any injuries out front. At least, I don't see any stretchers being brought in."_

Hanging in midair upside down, his hat still clinging improbably to his head, the Kaitou Kid chuckled at the equally-upended detective tangled in webbing and dangling beside him as he manhandled him a little higher. His eyes gleamed an almost eerily brilliant blue behind glass and shadow. _"Hey, Hakuba….. What goes 'Ha-ha-ha-ha-THUD!'?"_

"What?" growled the other, still vainly trying to free himself from the sticky net.

_"A man laughing his head off. Which, by the way, would have been YOU if **I** hadn't decided to play Pin-The-Knife-On-The-Forearm…"_

"Likewise. Let me point out that the blade could have been aimed at either of us," said the detective acidly, his coat hanging half over his face. "You were as much a possible target as I was; I was merely trying to keep you alive long enough for an arrest to be made." Hakuba was still fuming over being captured; it hadn't helped that the Kid had politely mentioned that he _HAD_ kept to the letter of the cease-fire agreement… and the law, too, when you got right down to it. How very ironic.

_"Heh; I suppose. A real pair of heroes, aren't we?"_ Keeping carefully out of range of the other's hands (and congratulating himself on remembering to snitch the other's revolver from its holster as soon as the tantei had been sufficiently tangled), the thief tugged the thin strands of netting over a bit and hooked a line from the gantry on before flipping onto his feet. _"Wiggle around so you're upright, will you? You'll be a lot more comfortable if you're not hanging head-down; and besides, you look like a bat with a tweed fetish." _White-gloved hands began to pull hard on the ropes which would raise the tiny gantry-platform and its two passengers to the level of the cupola.

"Fancy you giving a damn, Kuroba—"

_"That's 'Kid', if you please; accept no substitutions. And if you'll recall…"_ He paused a moment to strain at the ropes, muttering something beneath his breath about 'heavy-boned English bulldogs' before continuing. _"… I don't like seeing people hurt, not even skanky blond detectives who can't keep their grabby hands to themselves."_

Hakuba spoke between gritted teeth. "I—" He twisted around, hair in his eyes, "—am NOT— skanky, thank you very much. And as for 'grabby hands'—" He managed to get his feet more or less towards the bottom of the net and his head towards the top, breathing heavily; "—you can bloody well take your OWN hands and shove them up your aa_aack!!" _A foot slipped through a tangle in the mesh and the blond fell a couple of feet with a strangled oath; the folds of netting collapsed messily around his face.

_"My 'aaaack'? I don't believe I even have one of those; maybe it's strictly a British thing."_ He snickered at the other's unintelligible reply._ "First Hattori-san and then Nakamori, now you….. Why do people keep inviting me to perform solitary indecent acts? Don't they think I have any friends?"_ wondered the thief, giving a final yank to the ropes. Still keeping well clear of his struggling captive's hands, he shoved with a foot while keeping an eye on the fireworks overhead and the busy, uniformed figures on the other side of the Conservatory.

_The cartridges should be just about empty, and whatever Jii's picked as a diversion should be starting about--_ A bang followed by a blister of actinic blue light breaking in the sky beyond his left shoulder made him wince and duck instinctively (it sounded a little too much like a certain gunshot for his taste). _--now._ As a peculiar, whining noise began to oscillate in the distance, he chuckled._ Oh good, they're using the Doodlebug! Poor Nakamori… wish I could take pictures somehow, but it'd be a bit difficult and I'm a little short on film. Oh well, can't have everything._

Hakuba's struggles redoubled at the noise and the thief gave him a thoughtful look. _Hm; --and I had better get my ass in gear._ He pulled hard on the ropes again. As the gantry rose a little higher, a faint thumping noise made him peer past the edge of the cupola's floor. _Tsk, tsk; somebody's been a busy little tantei, haven't they? Not that he's gotten very far, apparently. _ Two furious green eyes glared at him from where Hattori Heiji had propped himself up and was attempting to saw through the tape binding his hands with the edge of a rusty railing; with a last yank on the ropes, the Kid stepped lightly up onto the platform and began the process of hauling up the newest specimen for his Detective Collection.

_"Now all I need is Kudo and I'll have a perfect set for the Teenaged Division,"_ he muttered to himself as the bundle of tweed and mesh was dragged into place. Heiji-kun's eyes widened and he made what sounded like a sputter of entirely unwilling laughter behind the tape across his mouth; his captor merely quirked one eyebrow up in the shadows of his hatbrim and bowed mockingly. _"Always glad to be a source of amusement to you, Hattori-san; and give my regards to Kudo, will you? When you're not all tied up, that is."_ He adroitly avoided the Osakajin's attempt at a kick by tugging Hakuba in between them.

_thud_ "Ow!"

_"Ooops. Sorry about that, Hakuba-kun."_ The thief dusted off his hands and surveyed his two acquisitions quizzically, head tilted to one side. _"Hmm… you know, that's a good look for you two…"_ He laughed and dodged another attempted kick, this time from Hakuba. _"Temper, temper. One second; I need to document this for posterity."_ Before the two detectives' outraged gazes, the Kid produced a small instamatic camera and solemnly took their picture; _"Lovely! A Kodak moment if there ever was one. Pity that was my last shot on that roll of film."_ The camera vanished. _"And one last thing—"_ From nowhere he produced a somewhat worse-for-wear baseball-cap, placing it carefully on the Detective of the West's head. _"There you are."_ He gave the Osakajin's head a light tap with one finger.

"Mmphkk Ywwf!"

_"Likewise, I'm sure… And now—"_ The siren that had been rising and falling down below was briefly interrupted by the breaking of glass and a muffled Nakamori-ish yell from the Conservatory below; the Kid winced slightly and continued. _"—aack. Where was I? Oh, right. Now I'm afraid that I need to be on my way. Nakamori-kun should be back outside shortly—"_ (there was another crash of glass below, somewhat louder, and he winced a second time at the outraged bellow and crashing noises that followed) _"—and I have to give him a proper farewell. Oh, and before I forget….."_

A white-gloved, smudged hand slid into a pocket and retrieved the detective's revolver; casually the thief checked the weapon's load, thin fingers breaking open the cylinder with easy familiarity. _"One bullet left… That's cutting it close, Hakuba-kun, even for you."_ Carefully he laid it down by the railing, only then glancing up at his audience and at Hattori's wide-eyed face. _"Wha--? Oh."_ Half laughing, he shook his head. _"Relax, Hattori-san; I don't shoot the good guys. As a matter of fact—"_ and he reached across towards where he had stashed the guard's disguise from earlier that evening—_ "here's a little something for you as well."_ Placing the Taskforce rifle beside the Webley, he sighed theatrically. _"You detectives have such a lack of trust in your fellow men; it's sad, really. And I've gone to so much trouble to be nice to you both this evening….." _

The muffled string of emphatic _mmphs_ and _mwffs_ coming from Heiji at this point needed very little translation. But Hakuba's face had grown oddly thoughtful. "Kur—all right, all RIGHT then, _Kid._ Why would you leave us with weapons?" His voice was a little uncertain. "Aren't you afraid we'll use them against you?"

_"No. I don't think you'd shoot anybody in the back… not even me. And besides, the Webley belongs to you—it's not on tonight's heist schedule. Now, if it were a nice, shiny gem….."_ The Phantom Thief shrugged a one-shouldered shrug, flexing his right arm and the fingers of the attached hand a bit before popping his hanglider into place; his damaged sleeve flapped a bit in the wind. He did not turn around, speaking as he stared out over the madhouse that the grounds around the Conservatory had become. _"There's also the little matter of too many whackos still running around with guns—not counting our noble selves, of course—" _(Hakuba snorted rudely at this point.) _"—and though I had planned on leaving you unarmed and tied up in a nice, neat prize-package beside Hattori-san here, I just don't think that that'd be a good idea right now. Hakuba?"_

"—what?"

_"There's… trouble outside the Gardens, much worse trouble than I ever bring with me. Waiting in the streets. If things go badly, Nakamori will need help and so will the two of you. Don't be too proud to ask for it."_ Still he did not turn around; the fireworks overhead splashed his ghost-white figure with faint runnels of color, pale rainbows against snow.

"Trouble? What kind of trouble?" Behind the sticky strands of netting, the blond detective's hands tightened into fists; when the Kid did not answer, his voice dropped dangerously. "I _said_, 'What KIND of trouble'? As for helping, how do you expect us to get loose in the first place?"

_"You'll find a box-knife in your right-hand pocket; you can use it to cut yourself and Hattori-san free. And as for what kind of trouble it is…. it's the kind that shoots back."_

"…'shoots back'?" asked Hakuba slowly; beside him, Heiji's eyes were narrowed. "Associated with the gunmen of earlier, I take it?"

_"Correct."_ The thief hesitated briefly, turning away back towards the lawn below and staring out over it. _"And the ones who've been watching you lately, too—and you as well, Hattori-san."_ The Osaka detective blinked. _"You hadn't noticed? Yes, you've been under surveillance as well… I'd compare notes if I were you."_

Hakuba was silent for a moment; it was oddly quiet up in the cupola, if one ignored the occasional crashing noise from below. A cool breeze swept across the glass and metal structure, carrying with it the scent of the nearby river; and the Kaitou Kid lifted his chin and drew in a deep breath. _"Rain later… I can smell it. Thunder before morning,"_ he muttered, face turned towards the sky. _"Oh, and one last thing—"_

"—what?"

_"Be careful and don't get killed, please; Nakamori's daughter wouldn't like it."_ A breath then, almost a sigh. _"And it wouldn't exactly thrill me, either. Sayonara, Hakuba-kun, Hattori-san. Watch out for men in black."_ With a shrug, the Phantom Thief stepped forward and abruptly off the roof.

"WAIT!! Damn you, what do you mean—"

Too late. The half-Brit was uncharacteristically silent for a minute or so before muttering something highly uncomplimentary regarding the Kaitou Kid's ancestry, intimate tastes and probable destination after death as he began the difficult process of freeing himself and his fellow detective. Beside him, Hattori Heiji made urgent noises through his duct-tape: _"Mmph mf MNWF!"_

"Yes, quite."

Hakuba sighed and continued to cut himself free.

****

**_{}_**

****

****

**_bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt!bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzttt-bzzzzzzzzzt!!bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz_**

THUDthudTHUDthudTHUDthud-- His crashing footfalls rang in his ears as he swore between gasps for breath. For what seemed to be the millionth time that evening, Inspector Nakamori was being chased by something that flew—

"SHIT!"

--only THIS time it wasn't a thief, a demon-inspired decoy or anything else; it was a small, buzzing thingamajig that kept _divebombing_ him like a gigantic horsefly—

**_bzzzzzzzzzzt!wheeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEOOOoowwwww!_**

--and here the sonofabitch came again, a sleek little oval with broad fins, a tiny helicopter-like rotor and a screaming siren that would go off unexpectedly as it zigged and zagged through the air around him, never leaving but always managing to stay no more than a meter away. It was enough to give a man a complex.

"—next heist—bringing a—goddamn BASEBALL BAT—" Nakamori gritted out between his teeth as he ducked around a potted palm; his tormentor squealed defiance, dove straight for the fronds and right through them, straight for his face. Only dropping like a stone saved him. "#$%!!" snarled the Inspector, scuttling away like a crab towards the door.

The flying Fiend From Hell had announced itself with a scream and a crash of glass, bursting right through the Conservatory's outer wall and making a beeline for Nakamori; he had let out a respectable yell of his own and dove for the floor, expecting anything from sleeping-gas to confetti… But all the thing seemed interested in doing was making him duck.

_Waitaminute. Wait-one-#$%!!-minute. It never connects, and it COULD have by now._

A very evil grin made its way onto the Inspector's face with alarming speed; from their refuges on either side of him, several of the Taskforce members blinked at each other and then backed away meaningfully as Nakamori snarled out something unintelligible and grabbed for the nearest man's rifle. Reversing it and taking a firm grip on the barrel, he swung the weapon meaningfully; the little silver something circled him, pausing in mid-flight and buzzed, sounding almost puzzled.

**_bzzzzzzztt?!?bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzBZZZbzzzzzzzzzzzzt?!!_**It came no closer, and his grin widened satanically. He was _right. _It was only intended to make him run, not to damage him. _Goddamn Kid. I am going to FEED this to him._

**_bzzzt??_**

"Right," said the fed-up man through his teeth, eyes slitted. "Let's just finish this MY way."

**_bzzt!!whEEEEEEEEEEEEEOWOWOWOWOWW!!!_** With an affronted shriek, the little monster dove sideways to circle around him, looping low…

…and right into the path of his rifle, swinging upwards in a fast Jai-Alai-style serve. With a satisfying **_BZZTTTTT!!!_ **upon impact, the device exploded into a cloud of smoke and machine-parts, clanging as they ricocheted off glass and metal; Nakamori let out a howl of triumph.

And then he paused, still hefting the rifle; his expression of Neanderthalic victory sharpened, became predatory. "Kid," he muttered. "KID. This was another goddamn _decoy!"_

{}

_Right you are, Nakamori. And it was a major pain in the butt to make, too—getting that little rotor to balance took me HOURS. Wasn't easy snitching your cell-phone and planting the homing-beacon either, so I hope you're happy. Brute._

Perched just above Nakamori's head on an outthrust of the Conservatory rooftop, the Kaitou Kid grinned an equally predatory grin to himself. _Okay. Parts A and B of tonight's main objectives have been accomplished: A) I saved Hakuba and Heiji's asses, and B) there are several very valuable prisoners being taken into custody. Coolness. Now… what's next? Oh, RIGHT. We need to get away… in a suitably stylish manner, of course. And then there's that little gift I wanted to give Nakamori, too. Can't disappoint my biggest fan._

The Kid's grin widened and grew manic as he slid the fake gem that he had stolen from the equally-fake statue earlier from his pocket onto the scorched cloth of his palm; eyes glittered blue as the wind rose around him, sending hs cloak streaming. Down beneath his feet, Nakamori and his men were charging towards the entrance like a steam-locomotive turned evil, and he laughed softly at the progressive stream of curses that marked the Inspector's progress through the glass-and-metal building. _"Almost there….. good. And now,"_ he murmured out loud, _"Time to play just a bit. And then….."_

_"…then it'll be time to go hunting in the streets. Let's put the cat among the pigeons, shall we?" _The grin grew even wider.

Without moving his eyes he spoke softly into the microphone hidden into his tie_. "Jii? Here I go… Wish me luck, both of you…"_

There was a crackle of static and then a worried voice that was emphatically _not_ Jii's: _"—As if you needed it. Be careful, okay?—"_

His eyes softened, just a little, and his grin turned wry_. "Oh, I always need it. See you two in a bit. Oh—and, uh, you both might want to keep listening; I'm gonna give Nakamori that little present I mentioned earlier."_

The voice on the other end of the connection made a sputtering noise; or maybe that was just static trying to butt in. _"—what? What are you going to—"_

He laughed; he couldn't help it. It was always such a rush to do something… dangerous; it really, really was. And this was a risk, but at the same time…

…..and….. (he laughed again, quieter now)

And oh, he _wanted_ to do this in the worst way. _Literally_ the worst way; if the Inspector understood, sooner or later it'd be one holy Hell of a lot of trouble for one Kuroba Kaito. But if he _didn't,_ then… there'd be trouble of another kind, worse trouble. Harder to bear, at least… Either way, he was in deep; it all depended on _chance_ as to whether or not he could climb out.

_And Chance,_ he thought giddily, butterflies dancing through his nerves like lightning, _Chance is a oddam's best friend. Aside from certain Police Inspector's daughters, that is. God, I'm such a thrill junkie._

The connection was sputtering again. _"??? Just what ARE you going to do?"_ There was a certain promise of mop-damage in the words; somebody was losing their temper…

_ "Well—you know how I'm always saying that the Inspector needs to 'get a clue?'" _He paused for effect. _"I… am going to GIVE him one. So stay tuned._ _Jaa." _The connection ended with an enormous crackle of static (either that, or Aoko had just broken her headphone set into a thousand pieces and was jumping up and down on them; one could never tell.)

With a quick judgment-call regarding the drop, current windspeed and the situation below (and a brief moment of thankfulness that the Conservatory was as tall as it was), the Kaitou Kid snapped his hanglider into place as he fell and launched himself straight out and down just as Nakamori and his men charged out into the night.

{}

_Oh God oh God PLEASE be careful--_ A trickle of sweat ran down Nakamori Aoko's face beneath her mask; inside her gloves, her fingernails seemed to bite nearly through the thick material into the rifle she clutched so tightly.

Kaito had just swooped across the green.

Down below everything was smoke and flashing lights, with running figures charging back and forth wildly; shouts and yells rang out, cries that the billowing clouds of pink/black/white seemed to distort into monster-voices. Every scream sounded like a death, and every death could be someone that she loved.

_--Kaito, Kaito—Dad-- Oh God--_ Beside her Jii was as still and tense as tightened wire.

It was impossible to really see what was happening; the smoke and occasional brilliant explosion of light obscured too much, and the echoes of laughter seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at all. Briefly her thoughts flashed to the little devices Kaito had called 'Nakamori Specials' before being jerked back into the present by a bellow of _"DAMMIT!!!"_ that was unmistakably in her father's voice.

_Thank God, thank God, he's still alive, they both are—oh please, **please**--_ She couldn't have said what she was pleading for; there was too much to ask.

"Aoko-kun. Aoko-kun, _watch._ Some of what he's doing right now is for you and you alone." Jii's hand gripped her shoulder gently; his eyes were concerned behind his mask. With an effort Aoko swallowed the lump of terror in her throat and nodded, fighting an urge to back away. It was hard; _too much, it's too much,_ her mind whispered. This was the first time that night that her father and the Kid (she couldn't let herself think of him in any other way, not right now) had actually come face-to-face, the first time for them to really clash with one another.

The first time since she had learned the truth. And she had thought she could handle it, the fighting, when it happened. Now she wasn't so sure. "J-Jii— I can't--"

His grip tightened, then released and became gentle; he let her go. _"Just watch."_

A little dizzy as her heartbeat sped up, Aoko slowly slid down to her knees and rested her arms on the windowledge; she clung to the gritty stonework as if it were about to break beneath her. And all the while the music being used to mask their transmissions played in her headphones; it moved from J-pop into an American song that she liked, the simple lyrics fitting in all too well with what she was witnessing. Everything seemed to move in time to the slow, almost dreamlike beginning…..

_Here by my side: an angel…_

_Here by my side: the devil…_

It was called _'Weapon';_ she remembered that much. There was a flourish of silver-white amid the clouds and flashes so far below (so near, almost near enough (or so it seemed) to touch); for a bare knife-sharp second she saw a laughing, monocled face as the Phantom Thief wheeled and dodged back from reaching hands. His laughter rang out mockingly above all the rest of the noise and his cloak flared out like huge, white wings before the smoke closed in again.

_Never turn your back on me—_

_Never turn your back on me again._

_Here by my side, it's heaven…_

(andshe had always wondered, somewhere deep inside even before she had found out about Kaito—she had always wondered what it was like, being hunted and chased like that, to be the _prey,_ like the pigeons that Hakuba's hawk brought down when he let her fly. And now, watching the gleam of white silk and the silver glint of a cardgun as he whipped it out of seeming nothingness and shot a hastily-raised teargas rifle out of a squadmember's hands, Aoko wondered what she had been thinking when she thought of him as 'prey.' Prey always ran away; it never ran forward. Prey was always hunted; it never went on the hunt itself.)

He was lost to her then, in the blackness and whiteness and swirl; but she could hear him laughing.

He was _enjoying_ himself.

_Here by my side, you are destruction;_

_Here by my side, a new color to paint the world…_

(He was so far away, so close; she felt her nails biting through the gloves as she gripped the stone sill. White figure in white smoke, a glimpse of laughter, the sound of silk--)

_Never turn your back on it…_

_Never turn your back on it again._

_Here by my side, it's heaven._

What kind of person could be so damned _happy,_ dancing on a tightrope over catastrophe? God, how could he _laugh_ like that?

The music turned ragged and angry, a heavy beat throbbing between Aoko's temples as the movements and cries below seemed to speed up, become more erratic and broken. Was it the music that made things dark or was it the darkness that shaded the music in her head?

_Be careful—_

_Be careful—_

_Be careful—_

_Be careful—_

_This is where the world drops off…_

_This is where the world drops off…_

_Be careful—_

_Be careful—_

Something ran down her cheek again, something wet, like tears or blood. _--please--_

Below them, Kaito dodged several leaping figures, turning to look up at one of the armed squadmembers positioned high in a tree. Aoko jerked slightly as the old man beside her bit back an exclamation and brought his rifle to his shoulder, aiming; after a second, though, he relaxed and allowed the barrel to rest back on the tower's stone sill.

_Jii wouldn't-- That's my dad's squad down there, that's not-- I mean, THEY aren't----- Jii? Jii, you—you wouldn't really shoot them, would you? They aren't killers like the ones that are after Kaito, they're just… regular people. The good guys. WOULD you shoot them to protect Kaito?_

_Would I?_

_Would he want me to?_

**_--no--------_**

_---------but would that matter to me if I saw them aiming at him? Would I be the one who was ready to fire?_

_……..**Yes.** Not to kill, but yes. And I'd do it for my father too. Oh God._

The rhythm and the terror in her heart were the same; they hit like hammers against her senses, like a hard rain drumming on the ground. The beat drove out the rest of the world until there was nothing but sound, light and smoke and the fleeing, diving figures below.

_Don't get hurt, don't make me choose, please Kaito Dad Hakuba don't-----_

(…but she had already chosen, hadn't she?)

_And you breathe in_

_And you breathe out for it;_

_Ain't it so weird_

_How it makes you a weapon?_

_And you give in_

_And you give out for it;_

_Ain't it so weird_

_How it makes you a weapon?_

_Never turn your back on me—_

_Never turn your back on me_

_Again..._

(He could have been so different; it occurred to Aoko in that moment as it had before—Kaito could have gone the other way, balancing on the knife's point of his father's death and then falling into darkness and hate rather than pure pain and a desire to understand. He could have gone _bad,_ could have become something that would have twisted his talents and natural aptitude for mischief into a black, jagged-edged knife that hurt the wielder as much as their victim. He could have been so very _dark_—)

(--and how long would her father have lasted against that?)

"Be careful," she whispered.

_Be careful—_

_Be careful—_

(And he still _could_ do that, she realized; he still _could_ go bad. Anybody could, if the world got to be too cold a place for their soul to survive in. _And maybe,_ thought Aoko dizzily as her fingernails bit into the stone through her gloves, _maybe that's one of the reasons I didn't turn him over to my dad; maybe I knew that. Maybe I knew somehow that he needed me to be with him.)_

_(And I needed him to be with me. To be with me now. Oh God, be careful, **please**…)_

She wrapped her arms around her own body, hugging herself tightly as if rehearsing an embrace that hadn't happened yet or remembering one that had. The music shifted, slowed, became softer, weaving pain and acceptance into the melody until it fell over into pure sound—

_Here by my side, it's heaven…_

_Here by my side, it's heaven…_

_Here by my side..._

--and in a last flash of view before the smoke surged up again, Kuroba Kaito, the Kaitou Kid, glanced up at the clock tower. Brilliant silver light from a firework flashed off his monocle like a diamond in the dark, and she could have sworn that he smiled at her as a breath of grey fog swept across him and hid him from view.

_Here by my side….._

{}

It was when the smoke and flash-bombs had so filled the air with smoke that it was difficult to see more than three or four meters that a fed-up, exhausted Nakamori finally planted his feet and stopped running. Perched on top of a nearby lightpole, the Kid paused in mid-bounce and peered down at him quizzically over a drift of his cloak. _"Hm? Is there a problem, Inspector?"_

Breathing hard, Nakamori Ginzo glared up at the major thorn in his side (he would've said elsewhere, if asked) and crossed his arms without a word. All around him his men were skidding or tumbling to a halt, blinking away sweat as they picked themselves up and tried for some sort of cohesion.

But the Inspector stayed silent, a grim set to his mouth. The lawn in front of the Conservatory became oddly quiet.

_"What?"_ Perched above his adversary, the Kid scratched his head and seemed slightly disappointed. _"Don't you want to play any more?"_

"Delays. That's what you've been doing all evening," said Nakamori flatly. Arms still crossed, the disheveled man stalked over to a nearby tree and leaned against it. "You stalled us so we wouldn't mess up your business in the Conservatory—that makes sense. But this is a frigging delay _too,_ isn't it? ISN'T IT?!?"

The white figure shrugged, saying nothing; but a slight smile flickered across the shadowed face.

All the fury seemed to drain out of the Inspector; his shoulders slumped. "Why?" he asked wearily. "Why are you _doing_ this? I'm tired of chasing phantoms—you made fools of us over and over tonight, and for what? A fake jewel? You DO know that's a fake, don't you?"

The thief preened, settling slowly down into a relaxed crouch atop the lightpole. _"Of course."_ He tossed something glittering at Nakamori, who instinctively ducked. The faux emerald lay like a green piece of rainbow on the scuffed-up lawn for a second or two. _"Go ahead, pick it up; no booby-traps, I promise."_

"Fine. So what was all this for, if you knew it was fake?" The other man pocketed the fake stone and settled back against the tree almost easily. If it weren't for the watching Taskforce members, the drifts of smoke and firework ash and the distant lights from the police-cars waiting outside the gate, it might have been a conversation between two friends. "Why did you do this? Hell, why go to all this trouble if you're not going to get anything out of it?"

Up on his perch, the Kaitou Kid considered the question; a slow grin of appreciation began to grow out of his smile. _"Who says I'm not getting anything out of it? You'd be surprised… But do you know, I think that's the first time you've ever asked me that question? 'Why', I mean."_ He shrugged again, still grinning. _"Of course, if I told you 'why,' it'd spoil the fun…"_

The Inspector spent a minute or two telling the Kid just what he could do with his 'fun' (involving several portions of his anatomy which would most likely not benefit from the experience); the thief schooled his expression to one of respectful interest and listened, head cocked to one side, and then thanked him politely. _"I can always count on learning something new from you, Nakamori-kun….."_

_"Now. Do you really want to know 'why'? I mean—**really?** Or would it be easier to keep thinking of me as just a mercenary thief? No questions beside the regular ones if you do that; nothing but business as usual, me running, you chasing."_ Light flashed off the monocle as the Kid tilted his head a bit more to one side. _"Think about it, Nakamori-kun. I can tell you a little more of the truth—you've earned it—or things can stay the same."_ He seemed to be smiling still, a slight ironic smile.

_"Well? Which will it be?"_

Nakamori Ginzo was silent, still leaning nonchalantly against his tree, thinking hard; a thoughtful look had settled on his face, and it looked rather unsure of its welcome. "You're not joking this time, are you?" he said slowly.

_"Not this time, no."_

And for no reason in particular, the Inspector remembered the little Kid-caricature at the bottom of the note that had accompanied the heist-notice; it hadn't been smiling at all.

All around them the Taskforce members stood, sat or lay unmoving, watching as if mesmerized; this was NOT how a 'normal' heist went (if anything to do with the Kid could be considered normal). Off in the distance there was the continual crackle of police radios, and the occasional crunch of glass still came from the Conservatory; but in the center of it all it was oddly still, almost as if the rest of the world had been put on hold just to allow the conversation to take place. Nakamori's breathing could be heard as if on loudspeakers; the tiny sound of wind whispering through the Kid's cloak was clearly audible.

"Tell me." The Inspector's brows were drawn down. "What's this 'truth' that's so important? Tell me, damn you—Why did you do things tonight so—so goddamn differently than you've been doing them ever since I started chasing you all those years ago—"

The Kid shifted slightly, the triangular charm dangling from his monocle swinging; beneath the shadow of his hatbrim his eyes glittered, oddly bright. _"Ah. But that's **it**, you see. You haven't been chasing me 'for all these years'."_

"………what?" Total noncomprehension.

_"Think about it, Nakamori-kun. Think about what I just said… and think about this, too: What would you do if somebody you loved was murdered? What lengths would you go to to make their killers pay, if you had the chance?"_

"………WHAT?"

You could have heard a pin drop, even on the grass; you could have heard a heartbeat stop and then start all over again. You could have heard a life end.

_"A person's world can change in a second, Nakamori-kun… and black can become white, so fast. So fast… especially when you realize that there are much worse thieves than me in the world. Death, for instance."_ No humor in the Kid's voice now; it was quiet, a thread of old sorrow running just beneath the surface, cold as rivers. _"At least I return what I steal; Death keeps its prizes and never lets them go."_

He stood up slowly, balanced between the light below and the dark sky above, cloak streaming in the damp wind that was beginning to rise. _"Something valuable was stolen from me a decade ago; I mean to make the thieves pay. And then,"_ (the Kid paused, his face in shadow), _"they'll never be able to steal anything like that again."_ And he laughed softly, barely more than a breath. _"What's the old saying? 'It takes a thief to catch a thief?'"_

_"Black and white, Inspector. Black became white. It all came down to that, in the end."_

Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. The thief laughed again. _"Timing is everything,"_ he remarked, apparently apropos of nothing. _"And speaking of timing… It's time for me to take my leave. Be careful leaving the garden, Nakamori; in this __Eden__, the snakes are waiting outside."_

And he gave an elaborate bow and flourish to the Inspector and his men as Nakamori surged away from the tree, mouth open to yell _something,_ say _something—_

--but the smoke was suddenly pouring out and down from where the Kaitou Kid had been but was suddenly not, white smoke in obscuring drifts and billows and swirls—

_"NO!_ Dammit, come BACK you bastard! You can't tell me that much and just _leave,_ goddammit—" Nakamori's betrayed howl echoed off the buildings, only to be answered back by a laughing, distant voice:

_"Oh, can't I? Goodnight, Nakamori-keibu."_

And he was gone, leaving confusion behind.

{}

High in the clock-tower, Aoko closed her stinging eyes for a long moment. _'Black became white. It all came down to that, in the end.' He actually told him, if Dad can only understand. Stupid, stupid Kaito, stupid idiot--_

**_--why did you do it?!?_******

But she _knew_ why. It was so that one day, just maybe, she might not have to betray him. After all, a secret's not a secret if somebody figures it out first. And it was like he said: her father had earned it.

Jii's hand was on her shoulder; it felt a little shaky, felt like an old man's hand for the first time that long, long night. "It's time to go, Aoko-san." Without a word she gathered her rifle up and turned to follow him down the stairs.

{}

_And that's that. Whoooooboy._

The Kaitou Kid crouched against a stone, very still and quiet on the banks of the Kamo River just outside the garden grounds. Water shivered past his toes; it was rather cold with the breath of water wreathing around him in a veil of mist, but he was dancing inside despite the chill.

_Let's see: How many appropriate words can I think up to describe myself just now? Without resorting to Nakamorisms, that is… Idiot, nitwit, moron, fool, twit, jackass, jerk, imbecile, numbskull, halfwit, shithead, mark… No, not a mark; I knew exactly what I was doing._

In the dark, he grinned a grin of pure, unadulterated glee: mischief, with generous amounts of random lunacy as a mixer and a half-shot of logic to make things interesting. Shake well and serve.

_Glad I did it, even if it felt like stepping right off a cliff; I've stepped off lots of cliffs, I'm damn good at stepping off cliffs… I've had PRACTICE. And even though Aoko's gonna put a permanent dent in my head with her mop for something so stupid; I'll just have to wear my hat sideways to cover the lump. So THERE; nyahnyah. And now let's just see what Nakamori makes of it._

The dark silver ripples washed at his shoes; funny, how easy it was to see his reflection in the water. He supposed rather vaguely that wondering whether people had reflections in the dark was sort of like the old conundrum concerning trees making noise when they fell in a forest without anybody around—and why was he thinking about that sort of thing, anyway? Fatigue, that was it; he was _tired,_ bone-tired and a little punchy from adrenaline. And his arm ached where the knife had cut it. Funny how the pain lingered even when the scar had faded into nothingness, like ripples on water.

(and hadn't he had some sort of dream about a stream, a little while back? Something about silver goblets and a woman with—green eyes? And the scent of roses….. _??? Why does that make me think of icebergs? ??? _Behind the Phantom Thief's mask, Kuroba Kaito scowled and tried to recapture the memory to no avail. _Oh well, never mind.)_

A distant noise made him jerk to attention, chin raising a fraction; van engines, ones he was familiar with; _Good, _he thought distantly, _That's the rolling lockup van; they're transporting the prisoners. Now all we need is for Nakamori to get the bit between his teeth and start in with the questioning. We're finally, finally getting somewhere._

It felt _good._ More than good, actually; inside the Kaitou Kid, Kuroba Kaito drew a long, deep breath.

_Okay, back to business, Thief Boy. What's next? Uh—Lessee: Aoko and Jii should be here any minute now; they'll need to get underway. Nakamori kept choppers out of this heist because of the amount of trees in the Gardens—no need to risk a crash, and what good could they do anyway?—so I don't really have to worry about airborne traffic just now. Gotta get Aoko and Jii to safety, but that's covered; Jii knows the route. And then I--_

"Ahem."

The faint sound of someone clearing their throat directly behind him made the Phantom Thief nearly swallow his tongue. _AAACK. I always forget that Jii can walk that quietly--_ Trying his best to unfluster (_I'll bet this his kind of thing never happened to Arsene Lupin)_, he turned around with as much dignity as someone who had nearly levitated into a river could manage_. "Erk!—I mean, are you two ready to go?"_

He had to grin at the sight of Aoko-as-Taskforce-Lacky; it was a good thing he took that moment to do so, as the grin was quickly dispelled when she reached out with both hands, grabbed him by the collar and shook him HARD. _"AWP!"_

"Don't you 'Awp' me, you brain-dead, idiotic-- WHY did you—you-- Aaaaaaargh!"

_WHAP!!_

The riverside was treated to the sight of the Kaitou Kid receiving a blow that rocked his head on his shoulders. Still grinning, he touched his reddened cheek with his burned glove and said Nothing At All. But Aoko apparently heard the Nothing loud and clear; her shoulders drooped beneath the padding of her coveralls and she pressed her palms to her eyes. "Why do I have such weird friends?" she asked the night air plaintively, voice muffled.

Gentle fingers pried her hands away, lingering and not quite letting go just yet. _"Ask a silly person, get a silly answer….."_

She sniffled, wiping hastily at one eye with her free hand. "You should know."

"AHEM. Again." That was Jii; they both jumped guiltily. _"IF_ we might get back to business--?"

_"—Right. Okay, you two keep watch while I change. Jii, don't let Aoko check out my reflection in the river while I'm naked, okay?"_

"Of course."

**" ! ! ! "**

Despite occasional dark mutters from the Inspector's daughter (and a sneaking urge to see if she really WAS checking out his reflection), it was less than two minutes before there was a third Taskforce member straightening his coverall. He clipped his headset into place, slouching just a bit to change his posture, pulling a partially-smoked cigarette from one pocket. Aoko blinked. "Kaito? You don't smoke, do you?"

He grimaced and cleared his throat, allowing his voice to drop lower and suddenly develop a faint South Tokyo streets accent. "No, but this persona does… and it makes a good excuse for why I'm slinking around in the bushes if anybody asks: smoke-break. You wouldn't believe how many times I've caught your dad's Goon Squad off-guard because somebody absolutely _had_ to have a smoke…"

She eyed him grumpily through her mask. "Just don't develop any more bad habits; you've got enough already." He merely grinned and waggled his headset-antenna at her in reply. "Now what?"

"Now you two head out like we planned; me, I've got a little clean-up detail to attend to." The disguised thief studied his two companions for a second, sharp eyes noting the tightness in Aoko's posture that matched the fine trembling he had felt in her hands a few minutes earlier. "You okay?" he asked in a low tone, very gently. "I know this is all kinda hard on you; you've never seen me like this, not—well, as _me."_

The Inspector's daughter said nothing. Her gloved hands balled into fists briefly, though, and she made a short, stifled movement before growing still again. Jii stood silent behind her.

"Aoko? Can you hold out for just a little longer? Get to safety, and then we can talk about it? Please?" The words were in Kaito's voice now, and a little of the girl's tension leaked away at hearing the familiar sounds. It was almost as if just knowing that her friend was still there had been enough to help—not just the thief, not just her father's enemy, but the Kuroba Kaito she had known most of her life.

"I'm… okay," she said slowly, looking out over the river. "Just take care of yourself and we'll talk about it later." When he remained unmoving, still watching her enquiringly, she reached out and shoved him lightly in the center of his chest. "Go ON. We'll see you after you… when, when you're done. _Don't get shot."_

"Wouldn't dream of it." Her hand left his chest reluctantly; Kaito gave her a wickedly reassuring grin (and even through a mask, she could recognize _that_ look easily enough) and then glanced past her at Jii. Something passed between the two, some message from younger eyes to older ones— _'Watch over her'? 'Be careful'? 'Don't get caught'? 'Have fun'?—_ a little of all of those, maybe; and then he nodded briefly and melted into the shadows of the riverbank as if he had never been there at all.

Jii and Aoko were left looking at each other. The older man nodded towards the rise behind them, and they started up with Jii leading the way. "Running water does not generally make a very good mirror, by the way," remarked the thief rather genially as he stepped over a boulder.

**"I WASN'T PEEKING!"**

"Of _course_ you weren't. Watch out for those vines there…"

"—and he DIDN'T take everything off anyway, so—um—"

"Oh? Really?" he asked her mildly, navigating a tricky bit of ground. "Do tell."

**"……………………"**

{}

Nakamori's squad were well-known for the quickness and thoroughness of their sweep of a crime-scene; after all, one thing they had in that area was _experience._

He stood by the front gate, defiantly smoking a cigarette he had commandeered from a squadmember and watching as his secondary team cordoned off areas, marked spent cartridges of one sort or another, bagged evidence, took photos, and did all the other bits and pieces of necessary minutiae that went with a Kaitou Kid incident. Smoke curled into his lungs in a lovely, soothing rush, and he decided once and for all that the Law Enforcement Health And Safety Department could just take their non-smoking ideas and shove them up their #$%&s. _Everybody's got a vice; I'd rather stick with the one I know best than have a heart attack._ Nakamori drew another deep breath of smoke. _Aaaaaahhhhhh... Nicotine, I love you. You're there for me._

Of course, Aoko was going to _kill_ him, but he'd just have to hope she'd understand. He supposed he could always sleep in his office for a week or so. Or more, depending on her temper. His daughter had a _mean_ right-hook when she was pissed off.

The preliminary paperwork was done; the real reporting nightmare was waiting back at the stationhouse, and would involve hours and hours of form, datasheets, event analysis, etc., etc., etc. ad nauseum. It was always like that, and Nakamori needed a short walk outside the smell of gunpowder to clear his head.

_…..grumblegrumble….. Goddamn #$%&!! Kid, making a fool of me AGAIN, dammitalltoHell……… grumblegrumblegrumbleWhat'd he mean, 'black became white'?......... grumblegrumble…….._

Moving rather aimlessly towards the front gate of the Gardens, the Inspector mulled over what he always thought of as the Heist Scoresheet for the evening. _Mmhm… might as well get on it. Okay, as usual, the #$%!! Kid got away: -1. He didn't manage to take anything; 1. We're leaving with prisoners that had DAMN well better be able to answer some questions; another 1. The Kid knows what's going on and I didn't find it out; -1. Shithead. Lots of damage to the surroundings-- -1 for us, dammit, and THAT'LL go over like a ton of bricks. No major damage to any personnel though, aside from pride and Toriyama landing on that rosebush—and NO deaths: 1. No, make that 2… and last but not least, the bastard deliberately gave me some sort of clue to what's happening….._

_…….but what the HELL did he mean by saying that I haven't been chasing him all these years?_

The Inspector nodded absentmindedly at several of his men as he stepped out onto the sidewalks, breathing the cool post-midnight air deeply. _I think that last one'd have to be a zero until I can figure it out. Which I'm going to either do or die in the process. So…. Tonight's score is a big, fat **1.** Better than being in the red, I guess. Dammit._

_But at least nobody got killed. Screwed, maybe, but not killed. That's something._

It kept niggling at him, though—the memory of the Kid's voice, a little sardonic, a little ironic: '_But that's it, you see. You haven't been chasing me 'for all these years'.'_ He chewed on his moustache, moving aside as two more squadmembers walked quietly past (and wondering vaguely at the shortness of one of the figures—good thing they didn't have a height requirement). _I don't get it; I just don't get it. Of COURSE I've been chasing him; what the good goddamn else would I have been doing, writing his memoirs?_ His scowl grew as he methodically chopped the question into small, investigation-sized lumps for easy (relatively speaking) digestion. Nakamori was no genius; he knew that, had no illusions about being some sort of Boy Wonder like Hakuba or that Hattori kid (and speaking which, where in Hell were they anyway? Nobody had been able to locate them so far, which was worrying. _Probably off comparing magnifying glasses in a corner somewhere.)_ But he was _good_ at what he did; methodical, detailed and careful.

_And if I ever manage to get my hands on the Kid, what I'm gonna do to him before the cuffs snap shut'll be methodical, detailed and careful too. Maybe with a big stick. One with nails in it._ Moodily he mooched along the sidewalk, past the comforting and familiar flash of red-blue-red-blue, listening to the awkward music of police radio transmissions from the unit holstered at his belt…

_zzzt "—no problems this end, streets look to be clear—"_

_"—calling in to report a possible—" crackle_

_"Roger that. Any suspicious activity down at—"_

_sszzzzztPOP!zzzt "—all clear here too; had a report of an unmarked van, but it seems to have—" zzt_

_"—civilians in the perimeter zone, but they've cleared out if any were actually here—"_

_cracklehiss "—are you reading me? Over and out—"_

Shoes scuffed along sidewalk-cracks, the sounds growing louder as the Inspector moved a little further away from the business behind him; out here in the quiet post-midnight streets, it was easy to believe that all the crazy violence of the evening had never happened—except for the comforting weight of the stone weighing down Nakamori's pocket, the ache in his muscles and the harsh rasp in the back of his throat from inhaling too much goddamned pink smoke.

_Pink. Somebody needs to talk to that white bastard and explain that international criminals don't USE pink._ Nakamori had dark suspicions about anybody male who liked pink.

This was a habit of his, had been for a long time now: walking the perimeter, doing his own little outside-the-crime-scene stroll after the tumult and violence ended. Over the years the Inspector had found a surprising amount of surplus bits of info that way—he had even caught the actual perps on two occasions. He looked around carefully; _Mm; I'm about a block away now… I'll just walk a little further. Nobody in their right mind'd pull anything this close to the gardens, not with this many squadcars and personnel around. How would they get away? A suspicious vehicle'd stick out like a sore thumb._ He kept walking.

On a sudden impulse, he pulled the fake emerald that had been the supposed centerpiece of tonight's heist from his pocket, pausing beside an alleyway and holding it up to the fitful streetlight. _What is it about gems and the Kid? Just hunks of glittery rock. He used to steal paintings, gold, rare carvings, books, you name it. He went mainline to gems just before he disappeared all those years ago, and when he came back he stole a few odd pieces of this and that before going straight back to gems again. The guys down in research figured that he's looking for one particular one—that's why he sends the others back._ Irritably the Inspector tossed the replica up, catching it as it fell and staring into the green depths; his footfalls sounded even louder now as he moved on down the sidewalk. _When he didn't send that last whatchamacallit back with the tiara—what was it, the Somebody-or-Other's Eye?—I thought maybe he'd found what he was looking for; but then he posted another notice… and…_

Nakamori blinked, slowing down.

_He didn't return the other one… and he KNEW this one was a fake. He did all this so we could capture some of the guys who had done the shooting earlier, the ones who've been after him and me both. Him, because—?? Who the #$%!! Knows? Me, because… I know something? I figured out that he's been targeting gems with mumbo-jumbo supernatural histories—well, Research figured it out, and they think it was me-----_

The Kid always returned his heists, ever since he had started going after gems. Always, even before his decade-long hiatus and ever since his return. _Always._ But he hadn't, not this last time.

When you had been in the cop business as long as Nakamori Ginzo had been, you developed a sort of _feel_ for things that were important; and all the alarms were going off now. _What was so different about the Kid's last theft?_ And why the hell had he—

**"—Help— H-help me _please--_ Sir? Sir, p-please—"**

Mulling the thought over, he almost missed the faint cries coming from the alley that he had just passed; but with a jerk, the Inspector came back to himself and wheeled about with one hand reaching inside his jacket for his gun… before relaxing again, at least slightly. There was a figure huddled against one of the dim alley's walls a couple of meters back, a small, almost childish—no, kids didn't have chests like _that_—form, tumbled dark hair straggling across a frightened face that turned towards him from the dark. One pale cheek seemed to be scraped raw and there looked to be a gash across the woman's forehead, blood trickling down the side of her face to stain the little that remained of her torn clothing.

He was moving before he even knew it, cop-instincts kicking in without hesitation; an unharmed woman in an alley was usually bait for an assault, but this looked to be a mugging or rape victim if he had ever seen one. How the #$%! Had the sweep teams missed her? When he got back to the stationhouse there'd be hell to pay with whoever had this sector—

She fell to her knees as he reached her, bloodstains showing up garishly in the flickering streetlight as she sprawled with her head hanging, whimpering. "Miss, it's okay—I'm a cop; are you badly hurt?" Kneeling, he automatically fumbled for his radio before catching her by either shoulder and lifting carefully—or trying to; she was lighter than he suspected, or off-balance or _something,_ because suddenly she was sprawling backwards into the alley and pulling him down on top of her with a gasp of pain, grabbing at him wildly. His radio went clattering across the litter-strewn pavement, emitting static in a brief, accusatory burst; Nakamori yelped, flailing as his instinctive grasp clamped down on something that could have gotten him into a fair bit of trouble if it hadn't been an innocent mistake. "Ah—no, it's okay, don't panic, I'm a cop—"

She whimpered again and this time clung like a very frightened kitten, momentarily blinding him as one hand fisted in his hair and yanked his head down. _CRAP! _Nakamori's face impacted squarely into her ample cleavage, which would've been quite nice in other circumstances but right now was anything but. "Miss—Urk! Please calm down, let me _mmph!_—"

"They _beat _me, and they, they—" Arms wound themselves tightly around the Inspector's head as she sobbed, quivering beneath him; the hapless man flailed, trying to extricate himself before she realized just where she had planted his face. His mind was clamoring _Ohshit_ while his common sense kept sarcastically snerking at him for getting into such a position; with a shove of one palm against the asphalt, Nakamori managed to push himself away and up.

But all at once there was _another_ hand on his shoulder gripping tightly from behind and a sharp, stinging pain in his upper arm (_OW!what the f--?),_ followed by a dizzying rush of lightheadedness as he jerked back, falling in an ungainly heap sideways into a dirty brick wall. _Huh? What-----something's wrong-----_

_My arm—hypo? A shot……..…..Oh **shit**….._

The whole world visibly slowed down, grew blurry and tilted to the left as a drowsy heat spread through Nakamori Ginzo's body; it was almost enough to make his disregard the heat radiating out from his bicep as whatever he had been injected with burned through his veins. He tried to curse, tried to call out, but his tongue was growing thick and he couldn't seem to think; all he could do was lie there and stare up, heavy-lidded, as the bloodied woman climbed to her feet and stood peering worriedly down at him.

_…….. oddammit, scragged like….. a total green-behind-the-ears…….. rookie………._ He couldn't cry out, couldn't do anything but slide sideways and stare back, eyes glazing over.

There suddenly seemed to be two of the woman; Nakamori blinked slowly, caught in congealing, tarry drowsiness like a fly in amber. No, the other one was a man, not a woman; a grey-haired man. They were both looking concerned. Why? Oh, right; he had been caught like an amateur with the old bait-and-switch game, the oldest trick in the book-- _Nakamori you idiot… they'll laugh at you… about this….later on at…at...??_ He couldn't quite think of where, but _somewhere_ somebody was going to have his ass for being….

…………..knocked…….

…………………uncons— unconsee— un— uns_omething—_

He couldn't remember the word; what the hell, anyway.

The Inspector's eyes slipped closed without a struggle, the drug submerging him in deep, warm water; he slid beneath the surface easily as the night's exhaustion dragged at his ankles, pulling him down and down and down…..

Thin, fuzzy voices whispered across his failing brain as he went under: _Do you think perhaps we gave him too much valium, Kari? How should I know? It's not like I could experiment on myself-- Let's get him inside before somebody sees us. …Kari, I can handle him—Nonsense, I'll get his legs, just let me wipe this blood off my face first; oh good, it's already healed up….._

There were hands on his shoulders and ankles, but by now Nakamori Ginzo was a long ways away from any place where that meant anything.

Fade to black.

{}

_cracklezzzt "Recall all operatives; we had a sighting—they got him first."_

_zzt "They-- You're certain?"_

_"Yes. Full recall, now, before the police interfere—we've got about a three-minute exit window. Go. We'll deal with the captives later."_

_cracklecrackle "………Understood. Out."_

{}

_"PFFuhh!!!_ Goddammit, did he have to gag me with my own _socks?"_ Hattori Heiji made a horrible face as he attempted to wipe the taste of sweaty feet from his tongue, growling low in the back of his throat. "Bastard. I am going to GET that thieving sonofabitch if it takes me 'til I'm—"

"I would forget that goal if I were you, Hattori-san," commented Hakuba Sugaru dryly, distastefully scraping at a bit of webbing that refused to detach from the tweed of one coat-sleeve. "More experienced men than either of us have said the same."

His fellow detective leveled a flat, green stare at him over one shoulder from where he sat dangling his legs over the edge of the cupola's doorway. "Yeah? I don't see _you_ looking like you're planning on giving up the chase any time soon…"

"Point," conceded Hakuba with a raise of an eyebrow. He sneezed once and went on removing webbing-strands.

It had taken only about fifteen minutes for the blond to cut himself loose with the box-knife; that hadn't been the problem. Freeing the Osakajin without filleting his wrists, ankles, or throat had been the hard part, since the Kid had made a very thorough job of cocooning him. Hattori's impatient wriggles hadn't helped, either, anymore than his continual stream of curses had. _At least,_ thought Hakuba somewhat abstractly, _he knew a few phrases that I'm not familiar with. I must study the Kansai dialect someday when I have the leisure._

"You do realize that if he had merely taped your mouth shut rather than binding it with the socks first you'd be peeling a few layers of your lips off with that tape," he commented as an aside. The other teenager merely snorted, managing to convey a sincere 'shaddup' with the sound. Hakuba shrugged and continued to clean his coat.

Down below, the action was obviously over with for the most part. They _had_ had a good "front row seat" for the Kid's little game of tag with Nakamori-san; it had been enlightening, after their earlier conversation. Everything had been easy enough to follow: delay, delay, more delay… Why? Why all the delay?

It was a measure of Hakuba's exhaustion that he hadn't even realized that he had been speaking aloud. "'Cause he's got underlings watching out for something; I thought that was obvious," answered Hattori-san in an irritated growl. "He didn't want Nakamori or the troops to leave the place until he had a handle on what was out there." The dark-skinned Detective of the West scrubbed at one wrist, flexing his fingers. "I'd guess it had a lot to do with that stuff he said just before he left—y'know, 'trouble in the streets' and all that crap."

"It would seem so."

Hattori muttered something to himself; it did not sound very complimentary, involving the phrase 'close-mouthed prima donna'. "Rrgh. Fat chance of us catching up with him at this rate; we might as well stick around here and talk with Nakamori when he gets back." They had seen the Inspector stiff-legging it out the gate a few minutes earlier.

"Yes, that'd be advisable, I suppose…"

A glare from the Detective of the West had very little effect on the blond; Hakuba was _good_ at keeping a deadpan, considering who he went to school with. "Fine. Great. I'm sure he'll be just thrilled with all the help we gave him tonight." The Osakajin was in a horrible mood, getting steadily worse; after all, he had been nabbed early in the evening, before he had had even the faintest chance to get involved. That in and of itself was enough to make anybody surly; add this to one Hakuba Saguru's close-mouthed reserve (hence the 'prima donna' comment) and you get a Hattori Heiji with the kind of attitude that a certain Kazuha-kun would have described as Bad Weather Waiting To Happen To Somebody.

He was sulking; and he knew it, which made him only angrier. Tugging his baseball cap firmly straight (and wondering if he should wash it; Thief Germs and all that), Hattori attempted to recoup lost ground by dragging his mind back to a question that had been bugging him. "Hey, uh-- Hakuba-yan? What was that name you used earlier, anyway?"

Hakuba was still staring down at the green landscape below, picking absentmindedly at a sticky spot on his sleeve. "Name? I don't follow you, I'm afraid…" he said absentmindedly, brows drawn together.

"You started to call the Kid by another name up on the roof—you know, when he gave you your gun." He pulled rather savagely at a scrap of tape that had caught in his black hair and swore briefly. "You sounded almost like you knew the guy—have you figured out who he is or something?"

The blond turned a little; cool amber eyes met the other detective's dark green ones for a long, heavy moment. Finally he gave his head the barest shake and turned away. "I don't know what you mean."

"Huh."

Those same dark green eyes studied the back of his head, which revealed nothing; it was amazing just how noncommittal the back of a person's head could be, especially if they were British. "You sure 'bout that, Hakuba-yan?" What Hattori did not say was _'He may be an egotistic smartass but he saved both our lives; AND he passed along some info that might save us in the future. Do you have anything you want to talk about, or shall I just shut up right now?'_

He didn't have to.

Hakuba Saguru raised his gaze a little, seeming to find a great deal of interest in the blank darkness of the streets beyond the gardens; he continued to stare out into the shadows. "Quite sure," he murmured, fingering the stiffened and bloodstained tweed of the other arm's coat-sleeve. "Yes; _quite_ sure."

"Whatever…" Broodily the Osakajin shrugged, plopping himself down on the cupola's edge to put his socks back on. "Kudo's gonna ream me _out_ over this," he muttered.

"Mmph," said Hakuba noncommittally.

He wasn't exactly thrilled with his own answer, but—well. _After all,_ thought the Brit irritably to himself, _one good turn does deserve another… so far as that goes. But as of tonight, all debts are paid; and no-one, absolutely no-one, is going to catch the Kid before I do. That's a promise, Kuroba; that's a promise._

{}

_"Nakamori? Nosir, I haven't seen him in the last hour or so…"_

_"He was walking out towards the east perimeter— You know how he always likes to do a look-see around after a heist—"_

_"—No, we'd better call back to the main van; something's wrong here, we found his radio—"_

_"—you've got to be kidding— uh, yessir, right away—"_

_"—the Kid? But he never—"_

_"We found something—bloodstains on the asphalt, looks like; not much, but there may have been some sort of struggle—"_

_"—Should we contact his daughter?"_

_"Oh shit. Just…. shit."_

_"Yeah."_

Off in the distance, sirens wailed.__

** {}**

** {}**

** {}**

** {}**

**_To Be Continued…_**

**_Ysabet's Notes:_**_ hides beneath ruins of Conservatory Don't kill meeeeeee….. Last time I promised to do all SORTS of things in this chapter, and the damned heist got more and more and more complicated and it got to be over 25,000 words and it was taking FOREVER and….. uh…… Can I have a last cigarette before the fireing-squad shoots me? Whups, I don't smoke; guess that means I get to live!_

_Sorry, y'all; I really DID mean to do more in this chapter, but I figured I could either cram in the stuff I had planned or skimp on the heist. And the heist was FUN. How Hakuba managed to get that many important bits, I have no idea, but he did… and he was originally intended to be a minor, sidelines-character in this fic. shrug Go figure._

_Anyway—did anybody guess who was going to be kidnapped? I tried not to hint around too much. Next chapter's already started and will develop the plot quite a ways further; if you read last chapter's ending-notes, you'll have a clue where it's going._

_One other thing: the sedative given to Nakamori to knock him out. Ever had a shot of Valium? If it's strong enough, that's exactly what it feels like… it burns, too. Makes your brain feel like somebody just soaked it in syrup, and very very quickly as well. I went through a lot of surgery in years past, and you can TRUST me on this one. shivers_


	17. Social Studies

**_NOTE: Due to 's urelenting war against certain symbols, the asterisk that I've been using to indicate thought is now being replaced with a double semi-colon (;;). Hope this works!......... the author_**

****

**_Chapter Seventeen: Social Studies_**

_Draw the curtains, put a candle on the sill…  
__Let me take myself away;  
__For we have years and days and hours left to kill  
__And the means to make them pay.  
__(Cats Laughing, from the album "Another Way to Travel")_

Night is a very old creature. It moves at its own speed, in its own time, at its own pace; nothing anybody can do will speed it up or slow it down—in fact, it's usually quite the opposite. Try and pass the time more quickly and you'll see just how long an hour can _really_ take.

And flexible—there's nothing like the night for finding out just how much time can stretch and bend. The mother who sits up late, trying desperately to rock her wailing child to sleep: for her, the night is almost obscenely long and much, much too loud. But for the lovers who have to part when the sun rises, it's not only too short, it's too damned _unfair._ And all parties concerned are right in their respective ways.

Neither time nor the shadows give a damn about human wishes or concerns; the dusk is its own person, living a life that starts with the death of the daylight and ending with its resurrection. Why should it care how we feel? Night is an alley cat tightrope-walking a fence in a slinking, unconcerned saunter. It just glances at us sidelong over its shoulder and moves on, slipping through the hours at the speed of dark.

****

If you were to study a map of Japan, you'd do best working from the east and traveling west. Not that this would help you much; it would just keep the sun out of your eyes as you squinted over the landscape from some high place, like the rooftops that the Kaitou Kid favored so much. As the day faded into evening, you could search out the office-slash-living-quarters of a somewhat famous private detective and his slightly odd 'family'; you could examine an office high up in the main Police headquarters for the region; you could follow the bloom of headlights through the main streets into more heavily-populated districts, moving up until you reached a high balcony where white roses bloomed in pots; or you could swing your vision sideways and down through the dusk to a certain pair of houses situated side by side, one of which had an unusual amount of footprints on its roof…

It was late at night now, and Spot was in a Very Bad Mood. This isn't hard to achieve if you're a cat; cats _excel_ in Moods—they practically _invented_ the word 'miffed.' However, he was stuck in a house that wasn't his AND he was bored, bored, bored; the kitty-crunchies weren't tasting up to par and there was no-one around to stalk.

Annoying. A professional housecat shouldn't have to put up with such a disgraceful state of affairs, even a young one. Spot was half-tempted to leave something disgusting somewhere conspicuous in retaliation; there was nothing like a really messy hairball or partially-digested bug to catch a human's attention, particularly if it had been placed with all due precision in their shoe.

But not in his Person's, though; she might get annoyed and buy the cheaper brand of crunchies again out of pique. Maybe in the Male's…

_Hmmmph_

With all the affronted dignity of a razor-clawed tom three times his age, the white ball of fluff uncurled himself from his place on top of the refrigerator and dropped down to take a stroll along the kitchen counter. Nothing doing there, though; his Person had cleaned things up too neatly for it to be of much interest, though the windowsill provided a nice place to sit and sulk from. It was a pity that the window was shut so tightly; tonight would be a good night to go out for a prowl.

Maybe if he jiggled the handle a bit—

A soft whispering sound caught the kitten's attention then, coming from something that fluttered high in one corner just behind the curtains. Ears went up, whiskers went up, and Spot's entire body went down into a sinuous crouch. _Moth!_ He totally approved of moths; moths were cat-caviar. And besides, they flew slowly and tended to flutter for a _long_ time after you had pinned them down by a wing.

Eyes narrowed happily: _Mmmmm__… moths….._

He moved forward, silent as a draft of air; only the quiver of his haunches as he prepared to spring betrayed Spot's intentions. _Ready… set… rrrrrrrrrr—_

…and then the idiot thing fluttered _away_ from the glass and out of sight behind the wall, suddenly making it evident that it had been outside the window and (inadvertently) sparing the kitten a severe face-flattening and moment of crushing feline embarrassment. Everything about Spot briefly drooped in despondence.

_Damn. Stupid moths. Who needs 'em anyway?_ his ears said as they flattened.

A quick wander down the stairs to the cat-bed brought succor by giving him something to maul. His Person had thoughtfully supplied him with several new cat-toys (probably out of guilt, since she had shamefully abandoned him for the evening), and he nibbled meditatively on the spines of his rubber Puffer-Fish, tail swishing. It had a nice chewiness to it, although frankly he preferred the rubbery texture of the Squeaky-Parakeet and fuzz of the Fluffy-Bunny-With-The-Bell-In-It if he was in a pouncing mood. But the fishy-toy made the best noises and rolled nicely, so—

--and speaking of pouncing moods-- There was an _interesting noise_ coming from the back door…..

The kitten had not quite yet given up hope of getting to the doves outside. All those delicious morsels, just waiting for him… and that sounded _just_ like the door back there had opened. Dropping the toy Puffer-Fish (and wondering vaguely why the male human had made such horrible faces when his Person gave it to him), Spot lashed his tail twice in excitement and slunk out of his cat-bed to peer with one slitted eye around the stair-banister towards the backdoor.

_PurrrrrYOW_ It was _opening._

His whiskers bristled in anticipation; it was going to be a very bad night for the doves—

Wait. What was that scent--?

It was bitter and full of fight, sharp and sweetish and hot like that of an animal that had eaten bad meat; laced with human sweat and something else, something metallic and harsh, it grated on the kitten's senses and made his lips draw back from sharp teeth in an involuntary snarl.

**_Somebody here_** his twitching tail said as it bushed out. _Somebody here who shouldn't be._

Footsteps in the kitchen; Spot hunkered down, feeling suddenly much smaller even as his fur stood on end to make him look bigger. The footsteps went past, heading into the hall and pausing at the front door. There were several metallic noises, faint cursing as a screwdriver slipped once, and the tiny _click!_ of a switch. From behind the banister, wide blue eyes watched in feline apprehension.

The intruder finished his business and left, leaving his acrid scent behind.

_Not good. Not good at all,_ whispered the small white cat's narrowed pupils as Spot watched the figure leave (closing that tempting backdoor behind it). He looked up at the ugly black box-shape of wires and metal that had been fastened to the doorjamb and growled very softly. It was like…

Spot had once seen a poisoned rat in an alleyway, back when he had still been a wide-eyed ball of fuzz cowering beneath his mother's belly; for some reason, the thing at the door reminded him of how the dead rat had smelled.

_No. Not good. Not good at all._

****

* * *

And back in Kyoto…..

…..well, it all depended on your point of view.

If you were a member of the Kaitou Kid Task Force, you were currently either A) wounded and being treated at a local hospital; B) frantically radioing back and forth to your compatriots as you searched the streets for one Nakamori Ginzo, missing in action; or C) standing by one of the police vans, staring vacantly at the cooling Styrofoam cup of coffee that you held and wondering how the hell you were going to break the news to Nakamori's daughter.

If you were Hattori Heiji you were pacing back in forth in front of the Conservatory, peeling bits of duct-tape off your face and fuming silently; if you were Hakuba Saguru you were sitting on a bench to one side of the Gardens' main gate, picking absently at your bandaged arm and staring across the trampled lawn without seeing it at all. Neither young detective was very happy with the state of their respective worlds at the moment.

And if you were the Kaitou Kid…..

…..you _weren't. _That is, you didn't _look_ like the Kaitou Kid. What would be the point of that? Instead, you looked like a tired, somewhat irritated shop-clerk on his way home from doing the books until all hours at your company's Kyoto branch; and when several members of the Task Force stopped you for questioning, all you left behind was an impression of just how much you hated accounting and that (in your humble opinion) they Didn't Pay You Enough For This Shit and that this was a Hell of a Way To Spend a Vacation.

_click_

The hotel door closed behind the figure in the shabby jacket; rubbing his eyes, the clerk staying at the _Kyoto Traveler's Rest Inn_ shuffled down the rather dingy hall, fumbling with the key that the sleepy attendant had given him and yawning as he unlocked the door to his room. Once inside, he kicked his scuffs off at the door and disappeared into the bathroom; splashing noises indicated that a washing-up was needed, and the rustling of clothing should have produced somebody in either pajamas or at least boxers, heading bedwards.

It should _not_ have produced a thief in oddly damp white formal gear, top-hat firmly in place and monocle gleaming. The Kaitou Kid squelched over to the bed, leaving somewhat soggy tracks on the carpet and proceeded to do several rather odd things such as turning on the television (volume fairly low) and bouncing on the squeaky mattress-springs gently a time or two. Bedding was rustled, pillows were plumped, and a rough, tired voice grumbled something that was probably audible through the thin walls regarding the lumpiness of cheap hotel mattresses. Then he settled gratefully against the pillows for a brief handful of minutes, clicking the TV remote as if it were the most important thing in the world.

It was 2:37 a.m. in the morning. Pretty much anybody who might have overheard this was probably asleep, but it never hurt to be a little extra-cautious. It was rather a pity, actually, that there was no-one around with a camera; the sight of the individual occupying the premier spot on Interpol's Most Wanted International Criminals list lounging on a creaky hotel bed with his ankles crossed (and watching a late-night crime drama with somewhat critical interest) was something that should not have been wasted on an empty room. But such is life.

Ten minutes later, there was a faint, oiled whisper as the sliding glass door leading to the balcony which ran along that level slid shut on a newly-lubricated track; you would have had to be in the room to have heard it above the oddly high level of street-noise below, but the room was empty.

* * *

One room over, however, Nakamori Aoko was indulging in a bad habit of hers: Making-Things-Worse.

"—what if he got caught or somebody SHOT him? Jii-san, are there always that many people looking for him in the streets after a heist?" Hands clutched rather wild hair in agitation. "What if he doesn't make it back here before morning? He said he had to pick up something downriver—"

From his chair in front of (and, not-so-coincidentally, blocking) the doorway that led to the hall, a rather tired-looking Jii shrugged slightly. "Even if the Young Master is delayed past sunrise, I seriously doubt that it'll prove to be a problem," he commented, flipping a card over idly; he was playing Solitaire to pass the time, a cup of tea sitting to one side. "Why don't you sit down for a while, Aoko-kun? You must be tired…"

"—who does he think he is, the Invisible Man? If he had just let one of us go _with_ him, but nooooooo, he had to play the World! Famous! Thief! and do everything himself—"

Jii smothered a laugh with one polite hand. "… but he _IS_ a 'World Famous Thief', Aoko-kun, and quite capable of looking after himself…" He studiously avoided looking at the person who had just silently entered the room.

"Thanks, Jii." The person settled back with a sigh.

Aoko's pacing speeded up. "—and MANACLES or maybe drugs or something; I know he thinks he can get away with anything but _nobody's_ that good!" Pace, pace, pace, pace; much agitated stomping. Two pairs of interested eyes followed the Inspector's daughter's maneuvers bemusedly. "And if he gets caught he'll go to jail and drag us WITH him or, or those guys in black will shoot him down like a _dog----"_

"Would you like a cup of tea, Young Master? You look a bit worn."

"Yeah, unless it's that green crap you like."

"—solitary confinement! And it's a good thing they outlawed torture, because when my dad finally catches up with him he'll, I don't know, _geld_ him or something once he figures out that he's----- _Huh_

Aoko spun around in her tracks to stare at the bedraggled white figure slumped backwards in a chair by the open balcony door. The Kaitou Kid smiled at her, grey-faced with exhaustion from beneath the shadow of his hatbrim as he took a cup from Jii. "Thanks," he croaked again, pulling off his hat and dropping it onto the table with a groan. Water spread from the edges in splatters as it landed, and one of Jii's eyebrows went up.

"Don't ask," muttered the Kid, wincing; he wiped droplets off his forehead. "Let's just say that the riverbank's a lot more slippery than I thought it'd be and leave it at that, okay? It—uh, Aoko? Are you okay?"

The Inspector's daughter slowly approached the table, her face oddly tense; Jii took in the situation at a glance and nodded once to himself. "I'll just slip next door and, ehh, tidy up, shall I?" Without bothering to ask for the key, the older man slid past the chair and out the door without another word.

The Kid (not Kaito, not quite) sat quietly, damp at the edges; his face (not the Kid's face, not quite) was unusually still. It wasn't a poker face; it was more a distillation of all the night's activities and stresses, boiled down to a single reaction: exhaustion. He looked tireder than Aoko could ever remember seeing him look, no matter which mask he had been wearing.

"You've never seen me quite like this before, have you?" he asked quietly, not looking up; there was a trace of wry humor in the low voice. "I mean, wearing my working clothes and right after a heist." He chuckled softly. "Should I worry? If you're expecting me to look guilty, guess again; your dad, the entire Task Force and five thousand naked screaming Kid groupies could be out there yelling my name and I wouldn't budge." He sounded… different. More different than _usual,_ that is-- not quite Kaito, not quite the Kid; not quite the Kid, but not quite Kaito. Aoko swallowed once, thinking about him sitting half-dressed in Ayumi-chan's closet, remembering him showing her things in his father's secret room; even then—even when they had been preparing for the heist—he hadn't been so much _Kid_ as he was right now, bedraggled and worn out from the long night's work.

It made her oddly edgy; _;;Stupid,;;_ she berated herself. _;;Just because you're tired, this is no time to start losing it, especially after everything you've managed to deal with already. This is just a little weird, compared with all the rest; you can handle it. He's still the same person you've always known.;;_ That… sort of helped. And it was saying something, she supposed, when sitting and talking with her father's nemesis could be considered 'just a little weird'… Life just got stranger and stranger these days.

The Inspector's daughter studied the quiet figure silently, settling onto one of the room's small beds and tucking a foot up beneath her as she leaned back in a conscious attempt at relaxing. His hair was in worse disarray than ever; a thin line of something charred ran slantwise across one cheek and the hands that were currently tugging at gloves that were so damaged as to be useless were a little too controlled, a little too sharp in their movements. Anyone else's hands would have been shaking with fatigue; of course, anyone else wouldn't be sitting there, balancing somewhere between Kaito and the Kaitou. "Are you okay?" she asked him a little nervously, pulling the other chair around and sitting down across it in a mirror-image pose. "You look like…" Aoko tried to find a tactful way of saying 'you look like hell' without success; instead she settled for reaching across to brush away the smear on her friend's cheek, but her hand faltered and fell short without touching. Suddenly the room felt cold and more than a little uncomfortable.

A shrug; long fingers pulled the monocle loose, rubbing at tired eyes. "Yeah, yeah; I'm fine. Nothing that about sixteen hours straight of sleep won't cure…" He glanced up, a tiny smile beginning to curve that mobile mouth. "You look pretty wiped yourself; so… how was it?"

"—uh—'it?'"

Slumping onto his elbows, the thief waggled the fingers of one hand in the air insouciantly. "Yeah, 'it'. _YOU_ know… aiding and abetting. Seeing things from the other side of the line. Helping commit a crime. Watching your dad and me do our little dance and knowing who was leading this time. _THAT_ 'it'." He peered at her through his fingers, one eye glittering the darkest of blue. "Well?"

"…………………"

She didn't quite know what to say; the silence was beginning to turn painful. Kaito (or the Kaitou; Aoko had an odd feeling that this was _both_ of them, as if two people were watching her through one pair of eyes) sat watching her with his face in shadow, and she wondered what he was seeing. His voice was almost diffident as he spoke again: "The first time I deliberately _broke the law,"_ and the Inspector's daughter winced uncomfortably at the emphasis on the words, "I remember feeling two things. First off," and he ticked each point on a finger, still watching her. "First off, I felt like everybody could tell that I had done something wrong—like I had it written on my forehead or something. I kept expecting your dad to show up in front of the school with a set of handcuffs and an arrest-warrant but it never happened. Second, though… Secondly I felt a little like somebody who decides to jump out of a plane using a parachute rather than waiting for it to land." He smiled at the Inspector's daughter a little crookedly, face still in shadow. "Does that make sense to you?"

Aoko nodded silently; it did. Even through the past evening's terror and stress there had been odd moments of exhilaration, of breaking the rules… and she had grown up surrounded by rules, _rooted_ in them. Why hadn't it bothered her more?

And It wasn't like she hadn't known what she was doing, helping him. It wasn't like that at all.

Her friend stirred restlessly, hugging the back of the chair with one arm; absentmindedly Aoko noticed that the sleeve there was slit neatly, bloodstained despite the unmarred skin beneath. _;;Of course,;;_ her mind commented. It was funny how easy it was to get used to things. She looked down at her feet, dangling off the side of the bed. "So… what did you do when you stopped feeling like that?"

The thief tipped his head face-upwards, eyes closing, hands gripping the chair as he leaned back; the little smile on his tired face was oddly sad. "But I never did, y'know… I've _never_ stopped feeling like that. Never. It's still there, the worry and the crazy joy I get from breaking the rules—it never goes away, the feeling of falling. And it'll be with me 'til I die." And then he turned to look at her, still leaning back. As they opened, his eyes were …it was had to say exactly _what_ that look was. Resignation, a little sadness, an odd flicker of humor and—curiosity? And gratitude, and something else as well; it was almost enough to scare her, just for a second.

"Aoko? _I made you into a criminal tonight._ It's my fault, and I can live with that. But doesn't it bother you? At **_all_** He sounded, oddly enough, merely curious… although there was a flavor of something else there, something familiar… something sort of like the way he had sounded a few times when he had been explaining things and he had remembered that she was Nakamori's daughter…..

Oh; he was feeling guilty again. So _that_ was it.

Aoko didn't try to pass the question off lightly or avoid it; if it was bothering him that much, it deserved her full attention; but her hands twitched slightly, wanting a mop. "Bothering me? A little, maybe. Okay, more than a little. I'm not stupid enough to think that tonight won't have repercussions, and" (she offered him a strained smile) "I keep thinking that generations of my law-enforcement ancestors are probably shouting at me from Heaven or wherever. But… what else could I have done?" And she gave him a shrug, leaning forward to prop one elbow on her ankle as she crossed her legs. "Even my dad said it: 'Right' and 'Legal' aren't always the same thing. Maybe I'm finally learning that."

_;;That feels right, whether it is or it isn't. And **I** can live with **that. **And besides, I'm just too tired to have any deep philosophical conversations right now…;;_

"You're a lot calmer than I thought you'd be," he said wryly, stretching his legs out a little; one knee was deeply stained with what looked to be mud; "I thought you'd be after me with a mop by now." Kaito (and he looked more like Kuroba Kaito every second now, that sense of _distance_ slowly fading away from his face) scrutinized her with his head tilted to one side. "Doesn't seem right, somehow, me doing something wrong and you not getting mad about it— I keep waiting for the Mop of Damocles to fall." He laughed at her black look, allowing himself to settle forward onto the chair-back again.

"Baka."

"Baka yourself." A disarming grin then, and tired as it was it looked good as he shrugged out of his jacket and allowed it to slide onto the floor in a soggy heap. "Pretty militant-looking baka, too, the way you were earlier with that rifle and all….. If you'd really been a member of your dad's Goon Squad I'd've been in fear of my life." One long arm twisted back at an improbable angle, rubbing at the small of his back; he winced a little, shifting. His blue shirt was damp with sweat and river-water, smelling strongly of gunpowder and the sweetish reek of the smokebombs that had filled the night with clouds earlier that evening.

The girl on the bed was still watching him as he stretched the kinks from his muscles, her tired face a little softer than before. "Is something wrong?"

Her friend shrugged, rubbing a little harder. "Just a backache; I twisted a little too hard when I bounced off your dad during that last chase, he was trying to—"

The Inspector's daughter held up a hand, rolling her eyes. "I do _not_ want to know. But, um, why doesn't it--?" And she made a gesture that probably meant 'heal with amazing speed' but might as well have meant something like 'grow another head' or 'die an untimely death'.

Her friend took it to have the first meaning and shrugged a second time, stretching in a long arch backwards, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as if to forestall a headache. "Dunno; guess the muscles keep cramping up. It's not really an injury; I think I just overdid it a bit." One eye peered out from under his shaggy hair, which had fallen forward again. "I, uh, don't suppose you know any good backrubs?"

"Baka again." A little awkwardly Aoko slid off the bed and approached him, dragging the second chair around. "Lean forward a little…"

They talked quietly while she worked, her fingers lingering on the bare skin of the nape of Kaito's neck; they were both tired and the thief could use a bath, but it felt good somehow to just _touch_ like this; good to be past the trials and stress of the evening, on the downhill side of things. The dark blue shirt whispered against the Inspector's daughter's fingers as she carefully massaged tired muscles; her friend let out a long sigh of relief, his face hidden in his crossed arms.

"Why did you change back into your—um—suit? You could have come down the hall in whatever disguise you wore to get here—" Her hands were warm and steady, working against strong shoulders that were finally beginning to relax; she could feel the faint snag of scar-tissue on the left side.

He yawned. "'Cause if I got caught, I'd rather it be as the Kid than some pervert trying to sneak into a girl's hotel room. And I didn't want to go down the hallway 'cause it goes right past the hotel bar, and there's still a few diehards in there that might've seen me." Kaito stretched, hanging long arms over the chair-back; "And I didn't want to leave anything behind if I had to run for it….. Oooh… yeah, right there….. Y'know, I've never had anybody give me a backrub after a heist before. Feels good….. ahhhhh….."

Aoko pushed a tendril of hair back behind one ear, working a little harder; he didn't just have knots, he had _lumps._ "I bet some of those groupies you mentioned earlier would've been glad to help—"

"Mmm….. oohh…. A little to the left… right _there….._"

She smiled to herself and continued to work; and now the room was warm and comfortable again.

They talked quietly for a while, touching only lightly on the more stressful events of the night; it was nearly four a.m. when Jii quietly let himself back in from the balcony, and Kaito was stretched out across the bed like a large, lazy cat, wrapped in the Inspector's daughter's baby-blue bathrobe (Aoko had ordered him to change into _something_ dry before he got a cold; when he had objected that they probably couldn't get colds any longer, she had thrown a pillow at him and said that she didn't plan on sleeping on a soggy bed. Kaito's wicked grin had promised an equally wicked reply, but the resulting pillow-barrage had sent him into the bathroom to change anyway before he could open his mouth; in retrospect, this probably saved his life.)

Jii blinked at his master but refrained from commenting on his new ensemble; he was frowning a little. "Something wrong?" asked Kaito, turning his head lazily as Aoko sat back for a moment to rest her hands. "If it's the Brute Squad out there in the streets, you _know_ they won't go home until they've thumped their chests for a few more hours—"

Abstractedly the older man sat down on a chair, pulling out a small receiver setup; he picked up his discarded teacup from earlier, swirling the dregs and preparing to make another as he fiddled a bit with the earbuds on either wire (Jii much preferred them over the usual headphones). "They seem to be a bit more agitated than usual… I'll just monitor their radio transmissions for a bit, shall I?"

The younger thief yawned; he had been up for nearly twenty-four hours and his eyes were heavy with fatigue, beginning to lid closed. "You do that. 'S probably just His Inspectorial Majesty making sure there're no more baddies hiding out in the garbage cans… OW! What was _that_ for?"

Aoko had nudged him in the ribs with a sharp-toed foot. "Stay awake, you; that's MY bed, and if you're going to take up all that room on it you can at least explain to me what went on inside the Conservatory. All we could do was listen; what happened with you and Hakuba--?"

"Fine, fine… slavedriver… Reach into the left pocket on my jacket there, it's closer to you than to me—no, the LEFT one, the right's still full of smokebombs—and hand me those Pocky-sticks, willya?" He rolled over with a massive, jaw-cracking yawn and propped up on one elbow. "Okay; let's just say that this pillow is the Conservatory; the entrance is _here,_ and the statues are _here._ These Men's Dark Choco Pockies represent the bad guys, the Milk Choco Pockies are the real guards, this White Mousse Pocky is me, and this Strawberry Pocky is Hakuba. So I came in disguised as Heiji-kun and—"

"Why strawberry?"

"'Cause they don't make a flavor called 'Obnoxious Tweed'. Anyway, I came in the front entrance…"

He was halfway through the final fight-scene and Aoko was frowning worriedly at his description of the Black Organization's members' eyeglows when Jii dropped his teacup. The abrupt shatter of ceramic made them both jump as if shot (this _was_ Jii, after all) and Kaito sat up, distributing Black Org Pocky onto the floor and inadvertently sitting on Hakuba's effigy with a tiny crunching sound. "Jii?"

The older man ignored the tea soaking into his pants, face suddenly very still; and he was staring… straight at _Aoko,_ who blinked. "Jii-san?" she ventured, wondering why a hollow space seemed to have suddenly opened up where her stomach should have been. "Jii-san, is there… something… wrong?" she trailed off.

Slowly, methodically, the grey-haired thief removed his frameless headphones and passed them to Kaito, who slipped them on, frowning; the tinny voices which the two had both been ignoring were abruptly loud in the quiet room, and the Inspector's daughter felt a coldness steal through her bones as her friend's face went—

--it was just like watching an old fashioned movie, in the way expressions flickered across his mobile features with the jump/jump/jump stop-motion that a silent film's fading frames would have, all jerky and quick: _apprehension-SHOCK-horrified dismay-**OHSHIT AOKO**-Poker Face._

That last one was the one that finally made her afraid.

"Kaito?" Pocky Sticks scattered and crunched as she scrambled onto her feet; there was a horrible feeling in her gut, and Aoko's hands were moving without her conscious control as she reached out to grab her friend's shoulders. "What's wrong? --TELL me! Kaito, TELL ME!" He was shaking his head frantically, clapping his hands over the earbuds, but she snatched the left one from beneath his fingers and shoved her own head up against his, earpiece pressed close to listen--

_zzt__-CLICK__ "—reported in from the __Chien__ Avenue__ area, but there's been no sign of him yet. Have you ordered in reinforcements?"_

_"Nossir, Officer Hinata said to wait until we hear from—"_

_"Get moving on it, we can't wait." ssszzt "—have to find him before this hits the news; we've never had anybody go missing during a Kaito Kid watch before—"_

_"…Yessir. Uh—has his daughter been contacted yet? Suikoden-keibu, you know, that guy from the __Kyoto__ 71st unit wants to know—"_

_"—goddammit… no, not yet—she's not answering her phone. Tell Suikoden-keibu that we're sending a unit to check out her house— We'll find her father if we have to tear this damned city apart street by street--"_

The wire and earpiece fell from nerveless fingers.

"That's……."

Kaito and Jii each tried to talk at the same time as the young woman slid slowly down to the floor, coming to rest on her knees with her back against the bed. There was a roaring in her ears, or maybe it was just their voices; nothing seemed to be making sense. But she could hear her own voice above the sudden thunder of her heartbeat, the harsh rasp of her breathing, and it was saying dazedly _"That's my dad they're talking about… They can't find my father… Why can't they find him?"_

"Aoko—Aoko, listen, we—"

"Aoko-kun, before we do anything hasty, we must—"

"—they'll be all _over_ the streets like white on rice, you can't—"

"—not panic, that would be the worst thing possible to—"

"Shit, shit, _shit_—Jii, you stay here with Aoko, I'll be right—"

"—_NO_ possibility of your going out there and remaining uncaught; let me—"

**_"SHUT UP!!!"_**

_"Please," _Nakamori Aoko whispered in the sudden silence, hands over her ears; she huddled against the side of the bed, eyes closed and the beginnings of tears just starting from beneath the lids.

Quietly Kaito sank down to crouch beside her, not quite touching. "…Aoko…?"

Her breathing was unsteady, coming quick and ragged. _"They_ took him, didn't they? He-- I want my father. **_I want my father—" And_** the words came tumbling out of her mouth, almost too fast to understand. "Where—they took him, where IS he? He, he's a _cop,_ how could they k-kidnap a _cop_ with everybody around-- I _want him BACK—"_

Gentle, strong hands closed tentatively around her upper arms, choking off the rise of hysteria with their touch. "Shhh, shhhh, I know, and we'll find him, I promise, I promise..." The words were soft and hesitant and a little helpless; eyes still closed, Aoko could hear the metallic whisper of her father's squadmembers chattering back and forth, issuing commands and shrill replys—they made a strange background to the rapid pound of her pulse in her ears and Kaito's continued murmur of reassurance as his hands stroked her shoulders, her face, brushed the tears away from her eyes.

Jii had pulled quietly away, leaving them a modicum of privacy; in the background she could hear him, speaking quietly into what was probably a cellphone.

When at last the Inspector's daughter opened her eyes again, it was to stare directly into Kaito's tired, distressed eyes; he was still crouched in front of her, and the weight of guilt and sorrow in his face was enough to jolt Aoko out of her own misery. It took a moment for her to realize that he now had her hands clasped tightly between his own, and when he would have pulled away she held on and would not let him go.

"You—" She had to swallow twice before she could speak; something was buzzing in her mind, an odd, distracting thought that wouldn't quite come to the surface. "Y-you'll—"

"I'll find him; I promise, Aoko. I _promise."_ Even when he had been shot in the shoulder he had looked better than he did now, grey-faced and stricken.

"All—all right. I believe you. I do." She swallowed hard. "I know." And she _did_, but it didn't stop her from having to almost literally fight her own body's impulse to spring up, run screaming out the door into the hallways and streets to the first policeman she could find. Closing her eyes again, Aoko gritted her teeth against another quiver of hysteria and—

_n__ o w_

--shivered, hard; Kaito's arms settle around her even as he twitched slightly, shaking his head and frowning for a second. "Don't freak out on me, Aoko; don't freak out on me now, okay?" he whispered. Still shivering, she nodded and turned her face to bury it against his shoulder—

_here__ now_

--as he twitched again. "I—" She coughed; "Did you say something?" Aoko's arms came up and around him, holding tight, and he shook his head. "I thought I heard you say—"

_come__ **here **now_****

"No…" Kaito's head lifted; he seemed to be listening to something, and she could feel the building tension in his muscles. He—

**_COME HERE_****_ NOW_******

"…What _IS_ that?" he whispered. "Aoko, did you just-- No, you didn't, did you?" She shook her head, still pressed against him. From across the room came footsteps, and Jii's grave, lined face came into view beyond his shoulder. "Jii? Did you just hear somebody say something?"

The older man shook his head, still holding a cell-phone in one hand; he looked a little haggard. "Err—no, I—" There was a moment of silence as he surveyed the two on the floor. "—Are you both feeling, ah, all right? …..As the circumstances permit, that is?" Slowly he sat down on the chair nearest the window. "I've taken the liberty of calling your uncle and telling him that there might be something of a delay." He hesitated for a moment, then went on tentatively. "Aoko-kun, we will find your father. Keep in mind that there have been numerous moments when he could have been killed—the very fact that he has instead disappeared breaks that pattern, which makes me wonder if some new factor has entered the game."

Aoko's hands fisted in her own bathrobe, and the young man holding her tightened his arms. "It, it's NOT A GAME! This is my father we're talking about, and he could be--- he could be—oh, oh _d-dammit…….." _She pounded one fist on Kaito's shoulder, not even realizing what she was hitting; he only held her tighter. _"Dammit, dammit, dammit!__ I want my father!! I—"_

**_COME HERE NOW HERE NOW HERE NOW COME HERE NOW HERE NOW HERE_******

--and they _BOTH_ cried out, instinctively huddling together as close to the carpet as possible to get away from the enormous shout that seemed to echo through the room…..

….the shout that _Jii__, quite obviously, was completely oblivious to._

"What……… what the HELL was THAT?" Kaito was the first one to recover, slowly unfolding from his frightened-animal crouch. "That—you couldn't hear it? At all??" Mutely the old man shook his head, and as Aoko peered up from between her hands it came again, softer this time, as if it had proven a point by being heard at all:

_now__ to me now Now to me_

_Come_

_Now.__ Now. **NOW.**_

**_To me now._****_ Waiting for you._******

…..and, like twin needles in the same compass, both of their heads turned the same direction. Aoko's voice broke the silence, thin and almost eerily calm: "One floor down, at the end of the hall."

****

* * *

"There, that's done; they're coming. Is everything ready?"

"Of course." China clinked; there was a faint rattle of cutlery.

Across the room, a pillow was gently fluffed and a coverlet straightened. "He looks a rather—_belligerent_ man, doesn't he? With that bushy moustache and all, that is; and the eyebrows. Come to think of it, he's more than a little like Indrajiit, isn't he?— and I see by your face that you've noticed the resemblance…"

"…..Er. Yes, well, I wasn't going to mention anything, actually. But I could scarcely miss it, once I saw him in the right light."

"Mmm. A bit gentler around the cheekbones, and the skin-tone isn't the same, of course. I think Indrajiit looked rather more like a well-fed tiger than an angry bear…" A scarlet fingernail stroked the line of a cheekbone, trailed through black hair just beginning to be touched with grey. "But the eyebrows; yes. He's rather appealing in an angry sort of way, don't you think? So good at being annoyed…" A slow smile. "No wonder that young man enjoys teasing him so much. And— ah. Ah! They _ARE_ coming…"

"Now?"

"Yes, _now._ Do be a dear and greet them, won't you?"

****

_

* * *

;;Oh, Jeeze. This is just too weird, weird, weird. That damned voice sounded like it was echoing inside my freaking HEAD.;; With_ the kind of stealth that came second-nature to you when you were in the breaking-and-entering business, Kaito crept along the hotel hallway with Jii and Aoko treading on his heels.

He hated to admit it, but that had rattled him; gunshots, fine, hey, he could take them—police chases, no problem—even smartass British wannabe-detectives with inventive tastes in gadgets, he could deal with that. But voices in his head?

_;;You're just worried that you've finally gone and flipped out,;;_ the thief accused himself, edging past a doorway; and it was true. When you spent a large amount of your time doing things that the world called crazy, you began to really understand the old saying about there being a thin line between genius and insanity. Hell, kaitous walked that line all the time—they did _backflips_ on it, and they didn't use a net. Voices inside one's head were not very reassuring.

_;;…but__ Aoko heard it too….. Jii didn't, but she did, so either she's equally a candidate for a rubber room or…;; Or_ what? _;;…or__ somebody really DID shout at us inside our heads.;;_ He blinked back a brief blurriness in his vision; fatigue was beginning to get the better of him. _;;Fatigue, yeah; that's it. Or alien implants. Or drugs in my drinking-water, or too much ramen, or Kudo hit me over the head for burglarizing his room and this is all a dream—;;_

_CREEEEAK!_ He jumped; behind him Aoko whispered a near-silent "Sorry…" It wasn't like she had been trained to walk silently, after all; the floors were old and could do with repairs. They had chosen that particular business hotel for its relative anonymity, after all, not its charm.

A droplet of sweat trailed down the side of Kaito's face like a ghostly, intrusive finger as the three slipped down the hall. Off to the left, a television played distantly in the bar; if he tried, he could make out every word. That was a little disturbing; so was the fact that he could _also_ pinpoint the snores coming from each room in the hall with scary accuracy. It might have been sort of worrying if he had had time to worry about it, which he didn't…

…..especially since they were only about twenty feet away from The Room Where The Voice Had Come From. How he absolutely, utterly, without-the-faintest-shred-of-a-doubt _knew_ that that was the right one, Kaito hadn't a clue; but it was. He knew it, Aoko knew it, and neither of them could have turned away if their lives depended on it.

_;;Gaaaahhhh…..;;_ Great; something _else_ to worry about. He gritted his teeth; if there was one thing a kaitou hated, it was being driven or forced to do something.

**creeeee****-_EEEEEEAAAAKKKKK_******

_;;Eeegh!!;;_ That was Aoko again; she just didn't know how to move silently enough—not her fault, but his nerves just damn well couldn't _take_ it anymore, so... Coming to an abrupt stop, Kaito touched his finger to his lips for silence and held up three digits before Aoko's startled eyes; he counted off—_one, two, THREE—_and quickly scooped her up in his arms. Her squeak of alarm was muffled by a helpful, somewhat apologetic hand from Jii; the Inspector's daughter glared a little, but allowed herself to be carried in complete silence on down the hall.

To the last door on the left, the one to The Room Where The Voice Had Come From. Room 108; Kaito swallowed hard.

_;;Eeeeeasy does it, now, Thief Boy….. Let's take a little looksee, listen for a minute and then decide where to go from there. Ground floor room, which makes things both easier and harder—no balconies to slip onto and greater visibility, though it'd be easier to sneak in… if I want to sneak in. Absolutely anything, anything at all, could be waiting in there— No grandstanding, no rushing; if somebody was calling us, then they must know we're here, which means we're vulnerable no matter how you look at it. There could be a dozen of those Black Org bastards waiting in there with electric cattle-prods and nasty grins, just for me...;;_

_;;…and__ that was NOT a good thought. Shut up, brain.;;_ Against his chest, Aoko's heart was pounding hard; he could feel the thunder of it where she pressed against his skin. A little awkwardly, Kaito shifted his passenger a bit, sliding one hand down into his pocket and patting around for a smoke grenade, his cardgun, anything—__

_;;--if it all goes wrong I'll throw Aoko at Jii and the first thing I can grab in their faces--;;_ His hand kept searching through the pocket, coming up with…

Nothing?

_;;…nothing__? What—OH. Oh shit oh shit oh **shit.** I'm still wearing Aoko's bathrobe. Kaito, you __MORON__, your gear's all back at the room in your jacket and we are SO very, very screwed if they—;;_

And the door opened.

Light spilled out into the hallway, slanting towards the three frozen figures and outlining the grey-haired, mustachioed man who blinked at them quizzically. "Kuroba-san, I believe?" He bowed carefully, eyes never quite leaving their faces. "Nakamori-san, of course, and—I believe your name is Kounosuke Jii?" The voice was mellow and unobtrusive, edged with an accent that had had its birth in someplace north of Europe; the sharp gaze peering through tinted glasses flickered across them, not missing a thing. "Please come in; we've been expecting you."

We?

"…Uh….." In the vague fog of stressed-out shock that was currently taking the place of his mind, Kuroba Kaito considered his options; he could run (carrying Aoko and wearing a bathrobe and no shoes, an option which did not bode well despite its appeal); he could turn around and march back to their rooms (ditto; whoever this guy was, he most likely knew where they were—being in the same hotel and all could NOT be a coincidence); or he could dive headfirst into things as usual and take his chances.

_;;One of these days I'm gonna find the joker who nominated me to be God's personal dartboard,;;_ he thought dazedly. _;;And when I do, I'm going to give him first-hand experience of the phrase 'where the sun doesn't shine.' With a golf-club and maybe a brick. Or a hockey-stick and a bowling ball. Or a--;;_ His usual quick-wittedness totally gone AWOL, Kaito opened his mouth to say something (he didn't know what) but was entirely forestalled by Aoko's sudden gasp and near-leap from his arms:

****

_;;Huh? Wha??;;_ But she was pushing through the doorway (the man had stepped politely aside, which was a good thing) and charging into the room… to where a familiar figure lay stretched out on the room's one bed, coverlet drawn neatly up to his rather bristly chin.

_;;**Nakamori****, safe and sound.** Thank You, God, I take back what I said about the dartboard thing.;;_ If he hadn't been so damned confused, Kaito might have hugged the man. It was like having sandbags of pure worry removed from his shoulders...

…except for the fact that now he had to deal with the ones who TOOK him. And he didn't have a single clue where to start.

The grey-haired man was ushering them both into the room now with sort of gentile shooing motions; he didn't exactly look like a violent homicidal maniac or a Black Organization operative, but as Kudo could have pointed out, most murderers didn't appear murderous; and that was not a reassuring thought either, not at all, what with the door closing behind them and everything…__

_;;Okay, right.;;_ Nakamori apparently wasn't going to be joining them at the present, despite his offspring's attempt to rouse him by doing such lovingly daughterish things as shaking him violently and yelping _Wake up Right NOW, Dammit!!_ in his ear; no response as yet, though. The room looked pretty much like the rest of the hotel's rooms, basic as basic could be; there were no assassins, no death-traps, nobody waiting with a gun or (thankfully) cattle-prods—nothing obviously frightening at all….. which, of course, was abnormal in the extreme and far more nerve-wracking than anything else (except possibly the cattle-prods; the young thief devoutly wished that he hadn't thought of cattle-prods.)

And then there was the room's _other_ occupant.

She sat demurely drinking tea from a cup that steamed fragrantly in the cool pre-dawn breeze coming through the window, black hair falling in a careful braid over one shoulder; a slender dusky-skinned woman half a head shorter than Aoko, quite self-contained and calm. Her long-lashed eyes were half-closed, heavy-lidded, and a little smile curved her lips as she nodded in welcome.

_;;Welcome? -----this… isn't what I expected.;;_ But then, if these were Black Org bad guys, they—

"We're not your enemies, Kuroba-san," said the woman gently, scaring him half out of his socks (had he been wearing them, or his wits (had he been using them)); her voice was also flavored with another language's accent—East Indian? Egyptian? Something of the sort, and had she actually just—? "And no, I'm not reading your mind despite my little, ah, _display_ earlier... I do apologize, but I needed you down here as quickly as possible."

**_;;Urk._**_ It was **her.;;**_Kaito stared at the woman as if there had been a cobra coiled there on the chair in her place, sipping tea—

She took another sip and gave an elegant shrug, just the barest rise of shoulders. "You needn't look at me like that, you know; it's an obvious conclusion and quite what I would expect if _I_ were you….." Wicked green eyes were suddenly fixed on his face, direct as the stare of a ct. "Would it help if I said that we share a common adversary? One that, had I and my associate not _rescued_ Nakamori-keibu, would have either killed him or taken him themselves?"

It was at about this point that Kaito realized that he had moved automatically to stand between Aoko and the woman; behind him, he could hear Jii taking up an identical position between them and the man by the door. It would have been almost funny if it hadn't felt so necessary; something about the woman's air of calm authority made him… _jumpy;_ jumpier, that is, than the situation warranted, if that were possible. Kaitous did not deal well with authority, _especially_ authority that jumped in and snatched their favorite Inspectors/playtoys right out of the middle of a situation that had felt relatively under control up to that point. Not that he was an absolute _control-freak_ like Hakuba or anything, but dammit—

And she had _used his real name._ Shit. _;;Jeeze, why do I even BOTHER with a so-called secret identity? Jii, Aoko, Mom, Uncle-Whoever-the-Hell-He-Is, Hakuba (whether you like to admit it or not, Thief Boy), and now these two. Gonna have to start sending out Christmas Cards and signing both names to 'em--;; "_You say we have a common enemy," Kaito managed, feeling a faint rush of pride at the fact that his voice still sounded steady despite everything. "Why should we believe you?"

The older man behind him gave an indelicate snort of mild irritation from his post by the door. "Tchah; if we were these 'Black Organization' ruffians, why would your Inspector still be among the living?" Kaito kept his gaze fixed on the woman, but out of the corner of his eye he could see her compatriot's reflection in the dresser-mirror as the grey-haired man leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "If we wanted him dead, he would _BE_ dead; believe that, Kuroba-san." He shrugged, chewing his rather ferocious moustache. "And why should we have to persuade you to believe us? Your proof is lying right over there." And he nodded towards the bed.

_Snooore…_ Nakamori Ginzo slept like the dead; his daughter, somewhat calmer by now but no less alert, smoothed the disheveled hair back from his forehead and glared up at the older man, saying nothing… yet. There were _teeth_ in the glare, however, and the man raised a single grey eyebrow. "You were so much more charming on shipboard, _aioizae_…"

Aoko's eyes narrowed even more. "What did you call me?" she asked carefully. Beside the window, the green-eyed woman chuckled.

An expressive wave of a hand as the other eyebrow rose to join the first; he smiled a little. "Merely a term of respect, nothing more." He chuckled softly and one of Jii's own eyebrows went up in what looked like momentary appreciation. "I wouldn't worry about your father waking up any time soon, Nakamori-san; we gave him quite a dose of sedative—eh, for his own good, of course."

"……I see……" Her fists tightened. If there had been a mop within reach…

About then, something that the woman had mentioned a moment before caught up with Kaito's brain. "You said 'rescued'; could you maybe elaborate on that?" he asked her, wondering briefly if he could yank off his borrowed bathrobe and use it to blind either of the two if they pulled a weapon. Of course, that would leave him in nothing but a pair of slightly damp, distressingly thin boxers, but a distraction was a distraction and—

"Ah, as for that…" The green-eyed woman nodded at two empty chairs that sat invitingly to her left. "Why not have a seat while we talk? It's early yet, but explanations will be so _much_ more pleasant over a cup of tea and a little breakfast…"

Breakfast? It wasn't even five a.m. as yet. Then again…

The young thief thought fast. If this was what it looked like (i.e., _not_ a setup by the black bastards) then these two whackos could either be potential threats or a possible allies. _;;They know my name, they know who we ALL are but they haven't called the cops, they rescued—or claim that they rescued—Nakamori from something dangerous and they're keeping him unconscious 'for his own good.' MY good, anyway, since I really don't want him seeing me here in __Kyoto__ fresh after a heist and wearing his daughter's bathrobe. Erk. No, I don't want that at all. Either way, my secret's totally screwed if they want it to be; but maybe we can salvage something from the situation if we play along for a little while…..;;_

_;;…and__ stay ready to run like hell if we have to…..;;_

He glanced back at Aoko and Jii; they were both practically vibrating with nerves, but he thought they'd follow along. "Breakfast; okay, right." Rather gingerly he moved towards the chair. "Aoko? Jii? The nice lady has invited us up for tea and cookies—have a seat." His two accomplices blinked at him doubtfully and then looked at each other; simultaneously they shrugged, glancing at the woman again. Akasema-san smiled then, a little indulgently, as if she had won a point in a game against children.

"My apologies," she said politely to Jii as Aoko warily moved towards the table, "but I was not expecting you as well. However, if you would care to sit on the end of the bed?--?" The older thief eyed her carefully for a second, saying nothing, but took a seat beside the Inspector's feet.

It was all too mundane: the cups of black tea which she poured with her graceful, long-fingered hands, the covered plate of what looked to be English-style fruit scones, the way she smiled at all three of them. "I hope you like Earl Grey. Would you care for sugar or a slice of lemon?" This was beginning to rival Kaito's best Alice-In-Wonderland dreams (the ones where Hakuba hopped around wearing a white rabbit suit and sniped about everybody being Bloody Late) and _any minute now_ he would wake up, he was certain…..

"A scone, Nakamori-san? --Yes, the current ones are quite delicious…."

_;;…and__ there's the Dormouse, lying on the bed, and I'm the Mad Hatter….. and that makes Aoko Alice? Uhuh. Right.;;_ He found himself swallowing a bite that he didn't recall taking; _;;Pretty good scones, though.;;_ "Ahh… you seem to know our names," said Kaito, trying to get a handle on the situation and wondering if somebody had slipped something into his breakfast cereal that morning, except that he hadn't had any yet. "You two are--?"

The woman across from them recrossed her legs, leaning back in her chair with a look that could almost be called contrite. "Oh dear; please pardon my bad manners!" She bowed slightly over her teacup. "My name as you would say it in this country is Akasema Kari, or Cari Akasma in my native area; my companion is Pyotr Kostya." She took another sip. "We've met before, though perhaps you might not remember it…"

Aoko paused in mid-nibble, crumbs tumbling to her lap. "We _have?_ Where?" Beside her, Kaito took another large bite and frowned.

_;;…whah_

The woman—Akasema-san?—smiled sweetly. "Aboard the steamship _Titanic,_ a little while before it struck the iceberg; don't you remember?"

_;;.........Iceberg__, riiiiiight. This woman is **CRACKED**. Enough's enough— relatively crazed, that I can handle. But people who think they've met you on the Titanic might also think you need to be thrown out of windows or shot or something, so--;;_

Abruptly the young thief stood up. "Ooookay, this is about as weird as I want to get right now. Thanks for the tea, thanks for the cookies, thanks for the rescue or whatever and so forth et cetera, don't bother to see us to the door, let's have lunch sometime, g'bye." Jii was also on his feet also at this point. "Jii, you take one end of Nakamori and I'll take the other; Aoko, you get the door—" He wanted OUT of there and away from scary screwballs that could talk in your head and—

"Really?" asked the woman quietly, tilting her head to one side like an inquisitive bird. "Are you _really_ certain that you want to do that, Kuroba-san? Without finding out who we are? That's so unlike you… and without knowing why we've helped, or how I know your names and your business or how I do _this—"_

**_Sit down. Now._**

……….and they **were** sitting again, all except for Jii, who stood looking back and forth from the woman to his master like a dog with two cats to chase and only one set of teeth. Aoko was still clutching her teacup, white-faced; Kaito shook his head hard, rubbing at his temples as he stared at the green-eyed woman with as much fear as anger… almost as much. There seemed to be a sort of red fog of fury rising in front of his eyes, and _damned_ if he was going to allow himself to be ordered around—

_"Stop_. That. Right NOW." His voice was low and even, maybe a bit frayed around the edges but steady enough. "I don't give a shit at this point whether you blow my secret to hell and back, so long as Nakamori, Aoko and Jii and me are safe; as far as I'm concerned, it's toast anyway by now." He shrugged defiantly. "My secret's probably a lost cause anyway; how long d'you think it'll take the cops to put two and two together when they find both our houses empty? And just how much do you think I goddamn **care** at this point about what happens to ME?" Kaito drew a deep breath, pulse beating visibly in his temples; his eyes were hard as glass and about as giving as he glared at the woman. "I've spent most of my life, _most of my life_ working to make those bastards pay for my father's death; do you really believe I'd stop working towards it now, just because—"

"—just because your _friends' lives_ are on the line as well? Is this nothing more than petty revenge, Kuroba Kaito? or were you telling the truth when you promised Nakamori-san that you would prevent the ones who stole your father from you from ever doing such a thing again?" Her voice was cool and composed, smooth as ice; and it stopped him cold in his tracks.

The others in the room looked on and listened, barely breathing; Aoko's hands tightened around her cup until the porcelain shivered.

"Here and now….. here and now, if you have the courage…… you can take another step down the path you've chosen for yourself and your companions." Green eyes, eerily unblinking, were fixed on Kaito's own. "Here and now you can _learn something new_….. if you have the courage to." Akasema-san leaned forward, resting her cup on the table with a quiet, deliberate clink of sound. "Are you brave enough to learn a new trick or two, Kuroba-san? For your loved ones' sakes, if nothing else? Because if you do not, then…" and she sighed once, faintly; "then it may be the worse for them, even if you manage to escape. I _know_ the ones you are fighting; no one knows them better than I, no one at all."

And she sat back, her dusky face tilting sideways into humor just a little once more. "They do say that knowledge is power, don't they? So tell me, Kuroba-san, Kaitou Kid-sama, son of Kuroba Toichii….. what will you risk for a little more power against your enemies? Your life? Your death? Your humanity? Your _friends'_ lives?"

Silence.

Kaito drew a long breath; his hands knotted on the arms of his chair. "Everything but that last; that's what I'll risk. Not my friends' lives, I don't have that right—and I wouldn't, even if I did." Beside him Aoko opened her mouth to speak but closed it abruptly as he continued.

"You want my life? I've already given it to this. You want my death? Can't give you that, not 'til I've done what I have to do." Kaito laughed abruptly, a sharp little bark so unlike his usual laughter that even Jii looked taken aback. "And my humanity? Hell, if I could give you that I'd trade it right over, but I seem to have mislaid it lately and—"

"Why? Because of the Pandora Gem?"

The words dropped into the roomful of tension like stones into clear, deep water.

Akasema Kari's face was quiet; her eyes glittered a little, catching the light from the city as she turned towards the window to stare out across the streets. "Let me tell you a story about the Gem, and perhaps you'll understand why we went to such desperate measures to draw you out….. It won't take that long, I promise you. Do you remember what you said to Nakamori-keibu earlier?" And she smiled, quoting his own words back at him_: "'I can tell you a little more of the truth—you've earned it—or things can stay the same… Well? Which will it be?'"_

Which…..

Three pairs of eyes met one anothers'; a decision was reached, and as Kuroba Kaito settled back into his chair his face seemed to undergo a sort of _change_, flickering into something a little less civilized and much more confident: the _kaitou's_ face, calm and deliberate. It was like watching a mask drop away and shatter; and though his voice did not alter much, something in it made both Aoko's and Jii's shoulders untense a little.

"The truth—fine, we're listening; but this had damn well better be good." Darkening eyes fixed on hers, steady and almost calm.

The woman smiled a cat's smile, serene and in control. "Oh… it will be…"

****

* * *

On the bed, Nakamori Ginzo twitched. Somewhere, many layers down in the depths of sleep, a waking part of him raised its blind face towards the light and wondered what the voices were talking about.

And why some of them were vaguely, hazily familiar…..

****

* * *

"Once upon a time, quite long ago," (said Akasema-san, sipping her tea), "there was a family that ruled a portion of what is now referred to as lower Pakistan. The family was not native to the area but had settled there from what you would refer to as Turkey a century or so past, but even then they had come from somewhere unknown before that….. They were fairly decent rulers as rulers go, and their people did well beneath their hand."

"…….we're a bit old for fairy tales, y'know……"

She smiled, glancing down at the reflection that smiled back at her from the surface of her tea. "Kuroba-san, one is _never_ too old for fairy tales. In any case….. There was a tradition in this family that the eldest daughter held in keeping a certain piece of jewelry, known as the _Ashk—_" At the three blank looks she sighed. "It means _'teardrop'_ in Urdu. This gem had been in the family for centuries, not worn often but always kept safe. Crystal clear and about the size of an almond, it was not pierced but was wrapped in heavy bands of gold and suspended from a necklace of pearls and rubies; and it was said to have great healing powers."

Kaito's eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me; it supposedly lit up like a 100-watt bulb every time this comet flew by overhead, and—"

Akasema-san smiled slowly, showing no signs of impatience; he might have just complimented her. "Why no, not at all….. May I continue?" Behind her, the man she called Pyotr muffled a laugh behind the back of one hand and was summarily ignored. "AS I was saying….. yes; great healing powers. It was rumored that anyone who wore the Tear on the night when the moon was full would find all their wounds or sicknesses healed by morning; not that this was common knowledge, you do understand, but word got around a bit and after a while the head of the family let it be known that the Tear had been stolen by thieves at last."

"Mmph. Must not have had much of a security system… big rolling boulders, scorpion-pits, trained attack-snakes, that sort of thing, right? Easy pickings."

"Ah, well, this _was_ roughly six centuries ago or so, after all. But you'd be surprised… Bear in mind that 'primitive' does not necessarily equal 'stupid.' One shouldn't believe everything the movies tell you, you know..."

"Hm."

"In _any_ case, the Tear vanished from sight….. and at about this time the eldest daughter was escorted to a nearby land to be married to the ruler there; it was a political marriage, the sort of thing that happened when you had a large family and ruled over a small country. You made alliances as much through intermarrying as through trade agreements or diplomacy….. Oh, _do_ stop yawning; this is an important part of the story, believe me."

"……We're listening……."

"The eldest daughter was a young woman of culture and refinement, at least for her era. She could read, she was well-versed in such arts as music, conversation, how to handle servants and so forth—oh, she was no Scheherazade, but at least she was quick-witted and was considered to be something of a beauty—rather exotic-looking, or so it was said."

"Um… what did she think of the man she was being married to? Wasn't it sort of hard, just going off to somebody she didn't know?" Aoko looked a little edgy about this; principles were principles, and that sort of thing was, well, just barbaric.

"Ah! Nakamori-san—would you mind if I called you Aoko-san? Thank you—you must understand that a woman of royal parentage was raised to consider such an alliance as her _duty_. Sooner or later, daughters married; if they were lucky, they married well… and if not… then they managed." A sigh. "This young woman—let us call her 'Kumuda', as part of her name meant 'white climbing rose' and _kumuda_ meant 'flower' in the land she was to now live in—she was actually rather taken with the man she was sent to marry; though he was more than a decade older than she, the Raj was quite nice-looking in a fierce sort of way and reigned over a small, somewhat petty border kingdom at the crossroads of several important trade-routes. The Raj, in turn, seemed to become very fond of her in his own way, and the marriage was a happy one."

"…still, just being traded off like that…. Wasn't she lonely?"

An elegant shrug. "My dear, she expected in time to be surrounded by the blessings of children; and this was something she had been born to, after all. If she was lonely she dealt with it as women marrying into a land of strangers have always done… by making it her home, a little bit at a time."

"Oh."

"Another scone? Please, do eat the lot, that's what they're here for… Now, please keep in mind that these were turbulent times even for that part of the world. Wars large and small happened all the time; there were bandits, uprisings, plagues, terrible natural disasters… Life expectancy was much lower than that of today; if one lived to the half-century mark in that part of the world, one was considered venerable. Anyone _past_ that was truly thought to be quite… geriatric."

"Harrumph!"

"What was that, Pyotr?" (An innocent flutter of eyelashes; from his post over by the door, the older man winced.)

"Err. Nothing…."

"As you wish." (Akasema-san poured herself another cup of tea, swirling the dark liquid a little to cool it.) "The years passed by and several children were born; but there was a problem. Alas, all of young Kumuda's sons and daughters were sickly at birth and did not live long… Now, in that place and time (you'd call his land 'India', or at least a very small portion of India— the Langah Kingdom of Multan, it was known as), a woman could get into quite a lot of trouble if she could not produce living children for her husband. Barbaric as it sounds in this day and age, such unfortunates could be divorced or killed quite brutally for such a thing. Despite her husband's fondness, the Raj's family began urging him to find another wife and to disown Kumuda, but he refused. It did not escape her notice, however, that he began inviting visits from some of his allies and hangers-on in court that had daughters of marriageable age….. It hurt to see this. As time passed, the visits increased and her husband seemed to turn from her a little, and then a little more, and she grew afraid: afraid of the Raj's growing coolness, afraid of the greedy looks on the faces of those around her when they flaunted their daughters in court, afraid of what might happen to her."

Silence; Kaito sat quietly, dark blue eyes fixed on hers. This did not seem to disturb Akasema-san in the least; if anything, she seemed a little abstracted.

"Kumuda poured out her fears in a letter to her father and mother, and they responded by sending her gifts of jewelry and fine silk, rare spices and animals for the palace menagerie, and something even more precious: a small thing, wrapped in soft cotton so it wouldn't rattle and hidden deep inside a carved wooden figurine that she had loved as a child… It glittered brightly when she opened the hidden compartment; Kumuda had once kept sweets there, when she was little, hiding them from her brothers and sisters and—well, never mind. What lay hidden inside was the Tear, not stolen after all but simply secreted away."

"Why?" Kaito's voice made Aoko jump slightly despite its softness.

"Because even the most well-guarded treasure will be stolen eventually if you send enough thieves—or merely ones that are _good_ enough—after it enough times. The best way to keep an object from being stolen is for the object to not be available at all… as far as anyone knows, in any case." Akasema chuckled to herself. "Isn't that so, Kuroba-san?"

The thief in question's steady gaze never wavered, but one corner of his mouth quirked up just a little.

"You'll recall that the Tear supposedly cured all ills? There was nothing it could do for Kumuda's lost children, but for those to come… and perhaps for herself, if the fault lay in _her_ body. Kumuda's old nurse had come along with the gifts, and on that wise woman's advice she wore the Tear hidden beneath her clothing at all times, tied around her waist or an ankle, never visible. It was hard to tell if it did any good… but if her next child lived, then……."

"…in any case… Where was I? Oh, yes. Kumuda hoped for a son or daughter, preferably a son; people in those days put great stock in sons. But something else came to pass before such a thing could occur, something that changed everything. One evening she and a number of her courtiers and attendants were out walking together in the palace gardens; the moon was full, and the air was crisp with the coming of Autumn… It was when she turned to an attendant and commanded that refreshments should be brought that an arrow came flying from the tall trees at the far end. It struck her, burying itself to its fletching in her left shoulder, and she fell to the ground close to death."

_That_ had been unexpected. Aoko blinked, caught up unwillingly in the tale. Beside her, though, Kaito sat unnervingly still.

"There was a great outcry and a search made, but the archer was never found….. It was almost certainly one of her rivals' servants or relatives, though, but that meant little enough to the dying woman; she was fighting to breath, trying not to die. Borne away to her chambers, she was attended by the best physicians that could be found; but it was notable that they seemed more concerned with making her death as comfortable as possible than with saving her life… Her husband the Raj was there, too, but his sorrow seemed to be more that of a widowed man's than a worried spouse's."

"And so she prepared to die. Her life was bleeding away—the arrow had not struck her heart, but the wound was bad enough—and no-one seemed to wish her to live. What use had a monarch for a wife who could only bear him dying children?"

Aoko winced at that. Across from her, Akasema-san's slender fingers tightened briefly around the handle of her cup; she sat it down carefully in its saucer, steepled her fingers in front of her and continued.

"Her old nurse was there as well, the one who had been sent from her home. Even in her distress, she was able to think; and as she knew her mistress would have wished, she managed to slip the Tear from Kumuda's body and was about to hide it in her clothing when her husband came into her chambers again. She had been feeding her mistress tiny sips of honeyed wine, and as she was still holding the cup, she dropped the Tear into the wine to hide it. What harm could it do, after all?"

"Her husband came, wept, and left; and soon there was no-one left in the chamber but two physicians conferring quietly together in a corner, a servant waiting by the door, the old nurse and the dying woman. One would have thought that the death of the ruler's wife, even the Raj of such a small, petty kingdom, might have caused more stir; but it was almost as if she were already dead. Stubbornly the old nurse continued to spoon the sweetened wine between her mistress' lips, and as the hours grew later and later the dying woman lapsed into a deep, deathlike sleep. No-one, not even the nurse, expected her to ever awaken from it."

And now Akasema-san's gaze sharpened; she nodded once, as if answering a question that no-one in the room had yet dared to ask. "You do see the similarities, _don't_ you, Kuroba-san, Nakamori-san? Yes, I rather thought you would…"

"When the dawn arrived, her weeping attendants came with it to bathe her body and ready it for the funeral pyre. What they found astounded them: their mistress Kumuda, breathing almost easily, the grayness of death beginning to be replaced by that of health. Her nurse had hidden the Tear as soon as the cup of sweetened wine had emptied, and none could understand what had just happened. This was not merely someone's near-miraculous survival of a grievous wound, you understand; Kumuda was _healed completely._ And not even she could say what had occurred to cause this."

"She didn't know?" Kaito sounded a little disbelieving.

"Why should she have?" asked Akasema-san practically. "Nothing like this had ever happened before. One _wears_ a talisman that supposedly heals wounds; one does not _drink_ it. Different forms of application bring forth different results; there are many poisons that cause no ill when worn against the skin, but if ingested they bring about instant death. Isn't this so? Why not, therefore, the opposite from something that normally merely heals?" She rubbed at her eyes, a tired gesture. "Think of the drug Penicillin; taken internally in the right way for the right reasons, it can cure even the Bubonic Plague—but rub it on an affected patient's skin and it does nothing. True?"

"Uh huh. And her family had had the Tear for _how_ long?" The dark blue eyes were less than convinced.

"Centuries, but it wasn't the sort of thing one experimented with.… You know, for a performer of sorts you're quite a difficult audience, aren't you?" she asked, an eyebrow arching in wry amusement.

"Try 'performing' in front of the entire Kaitou Kid Taskforce with Nakamori screaming for your head on a platter; you'll see 'difficult' then," Kaito retorted; behind them, Pyotr gave an indelicate snort of amusement.

"I suppose so. Now, if I may--? Good. So Kumuda arose from her bed healthy and well and quite, _quite_ bewildered… at her own undamaged body, at the way her servants and subjects shrank from her, at how the court physicians muttered at each other when she passed by. She was afraid of her own skin; it was terrifying, how she had gone from an awareness of bleeding slowly to death to a comfortable, painless awakening on what should have been her death-bed. Do you know," asked the woman musingly, "how frightening it can be to _lack_ pain when your body remembers hurting? It's a hard thing to deal with, that sort of change."

"…but then, I rather suppose that you do understand that if anyone does… don't you, Kuroba-san?"

He did not smile. There was a pause before Akasema-san began again, and she seemed a little more subdued than before.

"At any rate, Kumuda wandered through the first few days after her healing rather like a ghost. Her most loyal subjects shied away when she emerged from the Women's Quarter of the palace to walk through the halls; when she visited the palace gardens once more and gazed on the place where the arrow that had pierced her had gouged a furrow into the ground, the gardeners shrieked and fled." Akasema-san's eyes were shadowed with something old and tired; she stirred her cooling cup of tea with a spoon, then put the spoon down without picking up the cup at all. "Kumuda felt alive; it was hard, being treated as if she were dead."

"And even her husband… Indrajiit, his name was, named after their god of war….. Even Indrajiit looked at her strangely when they met to dine together in the evenings. He was not a cowardly man, however, and he asked her question after question after question… _Why_ was she still alive? _How_ had she healed so fast? Had she ever done such a thing before? Had anyone in her family? Did she have any idea, _any idea at all_ what had caused such a miracle?"

"And then, a month later while they sat together in the gardens talking one night, Kumuda broke a fine glass goblet in her nervousness, cutting her hand slightly….. and they both watched the wound heal in no more than the time it takes to draw a breath. That….." Akasema-san shook her head silently.

"The moon was full that night, as it had been the evening that she had nearly died. She grew terrified at what her own body had done; and in the end she told Indrajiit about the Tear. He _was_ her husband, after all… and she confided to him what her nurse had done, placing the jewel in her wine-cup. The frightened nurse was brought before them both and Indrajiit questioned her: What was the Tear, where had it come from, how was it to be used, what could it _do?_ The poor old woman knew very little; but after a little while, her master sent her to her mistress' rooms to fetch the Tear. When it was brought to him at last, he held it up to the moonlight and marveled at its glow; and then, he—"

"—he put it in his wine and drank, right?" Kaito broke the spell of words with his voice; it seemed a little overloud in the quiet room. "You can cut to the chase if you'd like, y'know. We can pretty much figure out what's going on here."

"Oh… you think so, do you?" For some reason Akasema-san seemed to find this almost amusing.

"Hell, _yeah;_ it's pretty obvious—you don't have to be a genius to figure out next week's episode in this little storyline." Tilting back in his chair until it stood on only two legs, the thief clasped his hands behind his head and recited: "Let's see….. Big shiny stone, confers magical healing properties, blah blah blah, stone gets hidden, blah blah, heals woman, blah blah blah, big-shot ruler gets magical healing powers from stone, blah blah……. And now you're gonna tell us that you're a direct descendent from these two aaaaaaaaaand it's your _Sacred Duty _to guard the Mystical Magical All-Powerful Tear a.k.a. Pandora Gem from the heathen masses who will use its powers for No Good…… Right?" Kaito gave her a bored stare from beneath his eyelashes as he leaned back even further. "And that's why you nabbed Nakamori-keibu over there, just to find out where the damned thing ended up because SOMEHOW it was in the museum as the Akuti's Eye—What'd you do, paint it green or something?—and Yours Truly stole it."

He closed his eyes, an almost bitter grimace on his face. "The whole sorry story sounds like a bad plot from a B-grade Pink Panther rip-off. And….." Kaito's voice began to drop in tone, lowering to a hiss: "And **_this_**_ is the thing that my dad was killed over?"_

The hiss rang through the room like a shout.

**_"No._** No, it's not quite like that, Kuroba-san." The woman's green eyes were shadowed again. "And as for your father's death, I regret that as much as I do all the others who have died over the Tear throughout the centuries….." She drew a deep breath, all the humor leaking away. "I pray for them, you know; wherever I happen to be, I visit the local shrines and temples and I pray… Will you allow me to continue?" Akasema-san glanced at the window-blinds. "It will be dawn within the hour, and sooner or later Nakamori-san's father will begin to awaken. We do not have forever."

"………go on………"

The tea had surely cooled by now, but the woman reached out to pour another round of cups; surprisingly, her hands were shaking, and the man whom she called Pyotr stepped quietly forward. "Let me, Kari-san." The strong, spatulate fingers were patterned all over with patches of light and dark skin, and Aoko leaned forward. "What are those?" she asked without thinking.

"Burns," the older man answered in a matter-of-fact way. "I was in a fire, and Cari—Akasema-san—saved me. I lost my family, but I lived."

The Inspector's daughter colored deeply, mortified at her own lack of tact. "I—I'm so sorry, I—"

Pyotr waved it away. "Tcha; never mind. It was a very, very long time ago, after all." He smiled thinly, setting down the teapot. "Don't worry about it, _aioizae."_ Stretching a bit, the grey-haired man hitched one hip up a bit and leaned against the window-jamb a few feet away from Akasema-san. "So? Cari?"

The smile that she gave him as she turned her head spoke of old familiarity. "So, Pyotr. Let us finish this….. You know, I haven't told this tale in, oh, forty years at least—" The extremely doubtful looks that Kaito, Aoko and Jii gave her seemed to amuse the woman greatly; she smothered a smile and continued.

"Very well, I shall—how did you put it?—'cut to the chase.' Yes, Indrajiit found afterwards that no wound would long remain unhealed, that no injury was ever permanent. The Raj also learned that he and his wife's senses had sharpened; they could hear their servant's whispers from far away, even the tiny sounds the fruit-bats made when they shrieked at each other in the night sky. The darkness was no longer empty; they could see where they walked when others stumbled, and their eyes reflected back the light as if they were cats."

Aoko and Kaito looked at each other uneasily; on the bed, Jii shifted a little, speaking for the first time in quite a while. "Why? The, ehh, thing with the eyes-- What does that have to do with healing?"

Akasema-san blinked. "I've no idea, truthfully. As far as anyone can tell it's merely a side-effect. One who has ingested the Tear's nectar finds that their every cell is, well, _improved_ to the point where health and stability is optimal; in a way, the body simply becomes a host for their genetic material's survival and….. distribution." At their confused looks she chuckled. "We breed with great enthusiasm, you see. I, myself, have had no less than twenty-three children over my lifetime, and if… circumstances… had been different, I'm certain that I would have had many more by now." Her smile faded, and she sipped from her cup of now-cool tea. "Let's continue, shall we?"

"It was not long before Kumuda found herself with child again; a boy, born whole and healthy. He lived, as did the next three—two boys and a girl—and then twins, boys again… All of them were beautiful children, without flaw; and all of them shared their parents' miraculous healing capabilities and enhances senses, right down to the eyes that shone in the dark. Life was good for a while—several decades at least; Kumuda's subjects gradually decided that her recovery had been due to the blessings of Vishnu or Rama rather than the act of a passing demon, and she grew high again in her husband's esteem." Akasema-san frowned a little then, fine lines that they had not noticed before crinkling between her eyes. "It was when the eldest pair of sons grew old enough to be trained as warriors that the trouble started….."

"Her husband-- Indrajiit had always seemed to be content with his own small kingdom of Multan; but as the years passed, he became a more and more interested in the lands around him, occasionally scoffing at this place's defenses and that place's ruler. Why should he not, he would ask? It wasn't as though it really mattered who ruled a land or a people, he would say; therefore, why shouldn't it be him? If he was strong enough, why _shouldn't_ he take what he could hold? A tiger held as much territory as its strength would allow; and Indrajiit very much admired tigers…" She sipped her tea, eyes dark. "He did not seem to weaken as he grew older, Kumuda's husband, any more than she. And it was late one night, when she left the Woman's Quarter and slipped into the Raj's rooms that she heard him talking with their two oldest sons, Bharani and Roshan, about Kumuda's own family's lands just across the border."

"It took very little eavesdropping to understand that he meant to tear them from her father's hands; in his own mind, he was doing what a tiger would do: taking what he could by strength." Akasema-san stared distantly into her half-empty cup. "It didn't seem wrong to him, apparently, to do this to his own wife's family. Their land was weaker, their defenses not as strong; allegiances and treaties-by-marriage were suddenly of no import. No… not suddenly; thinking back, Kumuda could think of the little changes that pointed to her husband's new ways: his recent ferocity in hunting, the way the Raj laughed at his own injuries and watched them heal with delight, how he scoffed at other's weakness and merely grew impatient when they faltered. And… she remembered how her old nurse had been found dead in one of the lonelier parts of the palace the month before, beaten to death by they knew not who nor why….."

"That night she gathered her remaining four children and tied the Tear securely about her waist where it would not be noticed; and she left the palace. It wasn't easy, though, and perhaps they were seen a time or two; whatever the cause, by that afternoon she realized that they were under pursuit."

****

* * *

Stretched out somewhere warm and soft and comfortable, Nakamori Ginzo drifted sleepily up from the depths towards light and sound. The voices he had been hearing hadn't stopped, and in some dim part of his consciousness names floated to the surface:

_--Aoko. Oh good she's here, won't have to go looking for her--_

_--Kaito? Boy next door/pain-in-the-ass nuisance, not a bad kid just wants my daughter that's all. Almost trust him but Bastard better keep his hands where I can see or I'll put 'em someplace he won't wanna go looking--_

_…..somebody else.__ Kid. KID. Using that goddamn stupid fricking reasonable voice he does sometimes, drives me crazy when he talks like that WHY IS HE HERE WITH MY DAUGHTER?..... white becomes black, I remember that….. Aoko? be careful—_

_Kid__ Funny he sounds almost like Never noticed it before, he keeps changing his voice Never mind, stupid-ass idea…..who….._

_…..and who's that? I know her voice— can't remember—_

The continual murmur of words were almost enough to wake him up. But sleep was a featherbed, a layer of soothing nonthought between him and the world, and it wanted to wrap him in it's-okay, not-your-problem, don't-worry. Of course, the trouble with THAT was that Nakamori Ginzo worried about almost everything.

_--Aoko?_

The depths got shallower; light was close now, almost near enough to touch.

****

* * *

Kaito shifted a little in his chair; he could hear tiny sounds filtering through the _Kyoto Traveler's Rest Inn_ now as water ran through pipes in the building and floors creaked hear and there as the building's staff began rising in preparation for the day. The sun was not quite up, but if you had the ears for it, you could tell that some of the place's inhabitants _were._

Interestingly enough, the only person in the room who did not glance up at the first sounds was Jii. He could not hear them; they weren't quite audible in the normal human range.

Akasema-san—'Cari,' Pyotr had called her—had risen to her feet by now; the diminutive woman stood beside her companion, drinking cold tea and staring out through the blinds at the still-dark morning streets. Her voice was still steady, but it was easy enough to tell that this part of her narrative was somewhat unsettling for her in particular, which was odd… It was just a story, wasn't it?

With the ease of long practice, Kaito kept his own face noncommittal. _;;Hell no, it's not just a story, even if she's talking about some ancestor that she identifies with. There's something screwy going on here—I mean, more screwy than having to do with the history of the Pandora Gem, which has GOT to be what she's talking about. But there are some things I don't get—if it's the same stone, why was the one I stole green? Sure looked like an emerald to me. And if you had to drink what amounts to Pandora-Gem-Tea to get the nifty healing abilities and all, how'd we manage that? I shattered the thing into pieces myself…;; He_ had an uneasy thought, and his stomach lurched slightly. _;;Maybe a piece landed in that milk we were drinking? We all had some, and Aoko's Cat-osaurus Rex licked the glass clean. …I wonder if it affects animals too? Betcha it does. Heh.;; Kaito_ was beginning to feel a little punchy here; too much information, too little sleep (well, _no_ sleep, actually). _;;Better warn Aoko not to bother to get Spot spayed. Complete waste of money…..;;_

_;;…and what the heck was she saying earlier about it being at least forty years since she told this story to anybody? She can't be more than a few years older than Aoko and me--;;_ Too many questions, too much bad craziness; dealing with his own admittedly warped outlook on things was okay, but when somebody else hit higher on the Weirdness Scale than _he_ did, it was just a tad unnerving. And Kaito kept thinking that the whole business would make SO much more sense if he just had a chance to lie down for a while…

Akasema-san was talking again, pushing a stray lock of sooty black hair back from her face as she did so. The woman looked tired, as tired as if she had been the one dancing through a herd of policemen and dodging bullets all night and not busy trapping Wild Nakamoris. "Kuroba-san, you're very familiar with being chased," she said as she glanced his way (and he blinked at the echo of his thoughts). "Have you ever noticed how one can feel a pursuer's eyes on one's back? It's a very odd feeling, isn't it? Like a touch down one's spine, lighter than feathers and very cold." He nodded a silent affirmative, and she went on. "So Kumuda knew when she was being hunted, and she did her best to break her trail. But, you know, this was a woman born and bred to the courts, not to stumbling through jungle or evading men on horseback; and the little ones slowed her as well. They had barely made it more than a dozen kilometers or so before their pursuers caught up with them….."

She leaned forward a little, resting one slender hand against the window-jamb and staring at the thin cracks of dark that showed between the blinds. Beside her, the man she called Pyotr touched her shoulder very lightly. "Cari…"

"No, it's all right. It's not as if I haven't done this before, after all; I should be able to manage it again, shouldn't I?" She sighed. "Well. The long and short of it is that just as Kumuda and her family managed to reach the river, she passed the Tear into her eldest daughter's hands… just in case. They found and stole a boat that was moored along the bank and made their way a little further, hoping to reach a small stronghold belonging to one of Kumuda's brothers… but before they could go much further, she was shot from behind for the second time in her life by an arrow. It took her just below her left shoulderblade, and she fell from the boat into the swift currents of the river, apparently lifeless, while her children screamed behind her."

Dead silence. Akasema-san closed her eyes briefly, then turned to look at her guests. "…Well? No clever commentary, Kuroba-san?"

Kaito was frowning; he hadn't expected that sort of ending to the story. "So… This Kumuda woman's dead, but she handed over the Tear before she got her kids into the boat, right? So you're descended from her daughter, and you've… inherited her healing whatsits?" He blinked. "Hey, um, do your eyes do anything, err, _odd_ when you're in the dark?" Beside him, Aoko fidgeted slightly.

The woman by the window had regained some of her composure by now; she shot him a sideways glance that had more than a little of mischief in it. "Oh, now what might that be? Do you mean _this?"_ And at her nod, Pyotr walked over to the light-switch and clicked it off.

_;;Eeep. **Bingo.** Jesus Freaking Christ on a pogo stick, that's creepy.;;_ Kaito heard Jii make a faint, muffled sound that in anybody else might be called a gasp; well, he had good reason, as four pairs of eyes (luminous green, gold, blue and silver) reflected the dim light from the window back at him.

"Ah," said Akasema-san out of the darkness, voice brimming with satisfaction. "Lovely. How long was it before you noticed?"

"It—it didn't take too long… just a few nights." Aoko's silver eyes blinked once, their incandescence briefly in eclipse. "And there's Ayumi—" She swallowed the rest of her words with an audible gulp; they hadn't mentioned the little girl yet, and Kaito growled internally. He did not, not, _not_ want 'Yumi-chan mixed up with these two whackos!

"Yes… the child. Your apprentice, I believe?" purred the green-eyed woman. She sounded like nothing so much as a large, well-fed cat contemplating its next mouse, and it made the thief ITCH. "Do you know, she's the first child in over seventy years to be affected by the Tear other than by inheritance? She's quite unusual, your little magician… and she has interesting dreams." A soft laugh, almost fond. "In her dreams, she's 'Ayumi The Astounding', did you know? She performs magic tricks in front of her friends, and I believe she has some sort of reoccurring one about peacocks, but I haven't yet—"

"Right. Her dreams." Kaito's voice had grown flat from a combination of worry, frustration and exhaustion. "How the hell would you know anything about what she dreams? You haven't even met her—she'd have said something." He stood up abruptly; he was being rude, he knew, but suddenly it was all too much and he was _pissed._ "We've heard you out, and okay, you've told us things we didn't know… and none of it, not one _bit_ of it really amounts to anything much. So the Pandora Gem's from India and—"

"—Pakistan, actually, and prior to that Turkey, and before that no-one knows—"

The son of Kuroba Toiichi muttered a comment about the Gem's ancestry that was not physically possible, not for a rock. "And the horse it rode in on." Cold blue flames fixed themselves almost savagely on green ones. "You said, and I'm _quoting_ you here: 'What will you risk for a little more power against your enemies?' You should've asked me if I'd risk dying from boredom. So far, all you've told us is that the idiot Gem's exactly what the legends say it is, 'cept it doesn't react to any goddamned comet so far and it used to look different." He was leaning forward on the table now, arms braced and breathing hard; Aoko put a tentative hand on one arm but the light touch was ignored. "Is that all? Or is there _another_ bit you haven't gotten to yet, what with all the history lessons?"

On the bed, Nakamori shifted a little; the sound was as loud as a gunshot in the pause that followed the young man's near-shout.

"'Another bit'?" And she spoke softly now, very softly; and oddly enough, there wasn't a trace of anger in her voice. Resignation, perhaps; and still that thread of sadness that had wound through the entire narrative. "Yes, the _next_ bit. That's what's important; that's what this has all been leading up to, and it's both the hardest to understand and the hardest to prove. Are you sure," Akasema asked out of the dark, "that you really wish to hear it?"

"What do _you_ think?" he spat, angrier than ever. _;;If she thinks I'll-- we'll stop NOW--;;_

"Very well," she purred."…..but first, Pyotr, could you please turn on the lights again? _We_ may be able to see, but it's most impolite to Jii-san for us to leave them off." With blinding suddenness the room was once more illuminated; sitting bolt upright on the end of the bed, Jii looked nervous but infinitely grateful as he loosened his collar with one finger.

Akasema-san calmly took her place at the table again. "The next bit," she murmured again, steepling her fingers in front of her and peering up through them at Kaito with a glint in her eyes that was suddenly very, very sober. "Then listen closely now….."

****

* * *

And _then_ she told them the next bit. And it shocked them and turned them around and changed their lives, _all_ of them, forever.

****

* * *

Three hours later…..

As has been mentioned before, the trip between Kyoto and Tokyo via Japan's railway system takes a little more than three hours. It's an easy trip, well-suited to its commuters—or most of them, at least.

_;;The problem with rain,;;_ thought Kuroba Kaito as he stared silently out the window of the Shinkansen Kyoto-to-Tokyo morning express, _;;is that it's never there when you want it. If you want sunlight, the sky opens up like it's got a personal hate-hate-relationship with dryness; but if you feel like it ought to be raining, you can just damn well forget it.;;_

And it ought to be raining. It was certainly raining inside his head, in sheets and bucketfuls with full accompanying lightning and thunder. He could practically feel it beating against his skin. _;;It's sort of comforting, I guess. Numbing.;;_

The young thief shivered despite the morning sunlight, huddling in his seat. _;;Numb. Yeah. Numb's good right now…;;_

The train sizzled its way along the rails, putting distance behind it and space between Kaito and his co-conspirators in crime. He had the car pretty much to himself this morning; most of the people heading to work had already gone, and his few fellow-passengers (one lady with a baby, two haggard-looking college students with backpacks, one drunken businessman asleep three seats down) weren't being any sort of a bother. Which was good, actually; in a distant kind of way Kaito was aware that he felt like utter shit and needed _sleep._ If Nakamori had shown up with an arrest-warrant about then, he would have gone quietly so long as the cell waiting for him had had a nice, comfy bunk in it.

Nakamori….. The unconscious man had been left in the hotel room for Pyotr to 'discover' upon 'waking up'. It was easily within the Kaitou Kid's abilities to place a sleeping Inspector in the unused bed of an occupied hotel room—he had done weirder things AND had rescued his Pet Cop before. And the note pinned to the Inspector's clothes explained things, sort of…..

_"FREE TO A GOOD HOME: One male Inspector of good pedigree with all shots, papers and tags. Mostly housebroken; friendly but tends to bite occasionally. Loud barker, excellent watchdog. Has a bad habit of straying from well-lit areas and requiring rescue from the Bad Guys so that he doesn't get his silly ass killed. Needs a home with plenty of space to run in; loves to play chase. Please call 1-412-1412 if interested."_

It had seemed funny at the time. Things hadn't really sunk in yet, he supposed.

They had carefully wiped all traces of fingerprints from everywhere in the room—_everywhere,_ including such odd spots as under the edge of the bedframe and on the commode-handle and beneath the edge of the table (of course, they had to do it all over again in their own rooms before leaving, but that went without saying). And then Pyotr had carefully applied his own all over the wiped places, after assuring Kaito, Jii and Aoko that Akasema-san had not been seen by the hotel staff, only him. _'I can promise you,'_ the older man had said wryly, _'that I am quite good at playing the shocked tourist. I'll call the front desk and tell them that I woke up to find an unconscious man in the other bed, they'll call the police, we'll all read the note, and Nakamori-keibu will wake up safe and sound, if embarrassed.'_ Pyotr had chuckled at the Inspector's daughter's glare. _'Ah, don't look like that, aioizae… He'll be fine, I promise. Confused, yes, annoyed, yes, but that's better than being dead, so?'_

There had been a second note, too, one folded up carefully and tucked inside the Inspector's shirt where he'd be sure to find it:

_'There are enough orphans in the world, Nakamori-san; don't let your enthusiasm cloud your judgment, or there'll be one more. I can't be there to rescue you all the time.'_

He hadn't added the Kid's usual caricature-signature; somehow the Phantom Thief didn't think it was necessary.

It was almost surreal, watching the scenery slip by. So peaceful, compared to the thunderstorm inside his head; late autumn grass and fields made a shaded background to the telephone-poles that went past, _thwip-thwip-thwip,_ as regular as windshield wipers. Monotonous, sure, but that was better than thinking about what he had been told earlier that morning.

_Numb._ Numb worked just fine, so long as it didn't get him caught. And it shouldn't, not looking like he did right now…..

A glance at his reflection in the window made Kaito smile just a little even through the exhaustion and distance that made a barrier between him and everything else; it _was_ a pretty good disguise, one of his best, and he had been itching to try it out. The amber-brown contacts were kind of striking, and the dark blond wig worked well enough once he had changed his skin-tone. Hakuba would have had a cow—hell, he would've produced an entire herd of Brahma Bulls if he'd been present; looking like this, they could've been brothers. Of course, that had been the point…

If you had to wear a disguise, you might as well get _some_ amusement value out of it… The young thief just wished that he felt more like laughing. Or being angry, or unhappy, or—anything much.

More telephone poles, obscured now and then by trees; _thwip-thwip-thwip._ He turned away from the window, staring vaguely down at his hands (freckled lightly now; part of the fair-skin disguise and so forth) and shivered slightly, tucking them into his pockets. He couldn't seem to really get warm, despite his jacket and the homemade-looking scarf he had wrapped around his throat; the world felt just a little colder than usual.

_;;Shock, that's what it is. Always thought you got that right away instead of hours later,;;_ Kaito thought distantly. _;;Maybe it's because I've had time for—for all that stuff Akasema-san told us to really sink in. But hell, it isn't every day you--;;_

_;;--__you--;;_

_;;Stop thinking about it; just stop THINKING period; it might help.;;_

_;;……………………..;;_

_;;--__Why are you **still **thinking about it, moron? Idiot. Ass. Clumsy stupid brain-dead goddamn ignorant jackass, sticking your nose in where it should never have gone.…..and you're still thinking about it because you're scared to death, that's why. You didn't ask for this or expect this, and you've screwed up the lives of people who you care for big time, oh, big time….. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry….. Hey, God? If this is revenge for me swearing that I'd do Absolutely Anything to avenge my dad, I don't see the joke. Not funny, God. Not funny at all.;;_

The young man in the scarf allowed his chin to sink down onto his chest. Hazy morning sunlight flickered like the ticks of a metronome over his disguised face, touching it and then dancing away almost too quickly to feel. His eyes were closed, and as the Shinkansen rounded a long, smooth curve, Kaito huddled even deeper into his jacket and tried to block the world out.

Something glittered on one cheek, disappearing almost instantly into the folds of the scarf as he turned his face to one side.

_;;No, not funny. If there's a joke, for once **I'm **the one not getting it.;;_

The train moved on inevitably towards Tokyo; and Kaito could not get there soon enough. There was a door there that needed to be closed.

****

_

* * *

And not all that far away, as the kaitou flies…..___

"Shin—I mean Conan-kun—are you _sure_ you can do this?"

"Shhhhh…."

"…….I don't like this…….. What if somebody _sees_ us? There are so many cops around—"

"Shhhhhhhhhh, Ran… I've almost got it—"

"SHINICHI, there's a police-car coming around the CORNER—Hurry UP Shinichi—"

**_click-click_******

_"There!_ Now, just give me a second—"

"OoooooohhShinichiIdon't_LIKE_this_….."_

It wasn't the first time that Kudo Shinichi, presently known as Edogawa Conan, had broken into a private residence. There had been the bathroom-window thing, and the sliding door thing, and the fire-escape thing, and—never mind. Even Sherlock Holmes had used the occasional questionable method or informant to get things done—it was all in the name of Truth, Justice, and the Japanese Way, right?

Right. And it was _also_, however, Just Desserts.

Besides, it was _necessary._ If what he had seen really meant what he thought it had….. The small boy with the glasses pocketed his set of lockpicks and began to ease the back door open. Behind and above him, doves fluttered and cooed, landing on whatever was available and turning their heads at improbable angles to look at the small intruders below. "Ran—Rin, I mean— Oh, come _on,_ Rin, there's nothing here that's going to bite us—"

She still hung back. For somebody who had been through the things she did, Ran/Rin had the oddest quirks sometimes… and apparently, breaking-and-entering was one of them. "Look, Rin-kun, you _know_ why we need to do this…."

"…I know, but… If we get caught, my dad—no, never mind my dad. My _mom_ will—well, what she does to _me_ will be bad enough, but what she does to _you_ will make the newspapers."

Conan swallowed hard; this was undeniably true. But still….. Determinedly he tugged his partner-in-crime all the way through the back door and closed it quietly behind them. "Look, we'll just take a few minutes to check on _waitaminute__—"_ He froze, staring…"

"What? What? Is there somebody there? I _KNEW_ this was a bad idea, I knew it I knew it…"

Very, very slowly, the detective in small boy's clothing walked forward, his eyes darting around as he passed through the kitchen and into a small hallway that led towards the front door. "Rin, stay back."

Too late; she was right behind him, breathing tremulously on his neck. "W-what _is_ it….. Shinichi?" By now, her eyes had also found the thing that hung fastened to the edge of the front door. Black and boxlike with several wires leading to something at the lock-plate, it glared back at them with a single tiny red light. "Is this some sort of, I don't know… booby trap? Something the Kid set for intruders?"

Her companion continued staring grimly. "A trap, yeah… but I doubt very much that _Kuroba_ set it." He drew a deep breath. "It's a good thing we came in the back door, Rin, because I'm pretty sure that that's a bomb….."

****

**_

* * *

_**

To Be Continued........

****

****

**_Ysabet's_****_ Notes:_**_ Hey……. Bet y'all thought I had given up on this thing, didn't you? Nope, and I won't. It's just been a rather difficult last month or so (read that as "my brother went into the hospital and was unconscious for more than two weeks and nearly died" and you've got it), and things got delayed in a big time. Don't worry; this story WILL be finished. I promise._

_This was a hard chapter to write, and I'm not entirely satisfied with it; I could have done it so many different ways, and I dithered a lot about how to tell Cari's tale at the end. No doubt most of you can see where this is leading to; it's pretty evident. But I have a few surprises up my sleeve that I'll bet you won't be able to figure out, though….. The whole 'voice in the head' thing will be explained; it's NOT precisely telepathy, by the way; not precisely._

_Oh, one more thing, by the way: The 'Langah Kingdom of Multan' was a real place; it lay right at the current borders of Pakistan and India, an area that's still very important for quite a few trade routes present. Never been there myself, but I did a lot of research on the place; it had a turbulent, bloody history with many warring factions. And as for Kumuda's family? They came originally from __Turkey__, but before that… somewhere else. Your guess is as good as mine._

_Next chapter: Consequences and family business; and a little more violence… and a lot more of Conan, Heiji, Ayumi and Rin._


	18. Current Events

**_NOTE: Once again, due to Fanfiction-dot-net's unending war against the common asterisk, I am replacing all asterisks with slashes; these indicate thought. WHY don't they like asterisks, I wonder?-- Ysabet_**

**_Chapter Eighteen: Current Events_**

It was just business as usual, really.

Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that stood out any more than _this_ day's schedule or _that_ day's workload; just the same old same old. Murder, threats, blackmail and so forth became dreadfully blasé after you perpetrated them for the hundredth time.

Or the _thousandth,_ for that matter-- It was almost enough to make a person wish for a hostile takeover to quell. Almost. But then, the carpets would have to be cleaned again, wouldn't they? Such things could become quite… messy.

"…and profits are up regarding the shipments coming in from Brazil and the Yucatan. The situation with the government operatives there has been taken care of, and we've extracted our agents with a minimum of opposition."

"The usual 'slash-and-burn' procedure was implemented?"

"Yes, Zakucho-sama. No witnesses left alive." The speaker smiled thinly. "It's a little hard to complain to the police when you, your family and your close associates have all managed somehow to perish from a mysterious illness. So sad, but these things happen; one would almost suspect poison… but the proper payoffs make certain that no-one ever does, at least not out loud or on paper."

"Excellent."

The group of men in the darkened boardroom stirred uneasily as the one called Jiro slipped past, taking his seat to the left of the empty seat at the end. The thin, dark man slid his sunglasses off, dropping them into one pocket of his black jacket; a cold grey gaze flickered across the faces in the room, and the men there fought back an urge to squirm—it was almost as though he were taking notes: _Loyalty uncertain, too afraid to be of any use… Watch this one, might need to make an example of him… Liability, leave no traces…_

Jiro's lips never twitched; but his eyes narrowed in satisfaction. It was good policy to be feared. He, of them all, was the only one who could show up late without comment.

There were no windows and the overhead lighting had been dimmed—not that it made much difference to the men there; they were used to darkness in a rather unnerving number of ways. Occasionally one would glance towards the end of the table while giving a report and their eyes would slant into golden bronze or a slate-washed silver, the only bright colors in the room; other than that, all was as subdued as the lighting. Even the murmur of conversation had had its teeth pulled, which was odd, since these were hard men and not easily intimidated.

But even wolves cower at the scent of a bigger predator.

"—targets in New York prove promising; our relationship with the main organization remains steady despite recent—"

The reports droned on.

"—have been offers from several of the less-traditional Yakuza groups to expand; however, they seem unwilling to negotiate on territory and may have to be eliminated—"

"—child prostitution prospects there are excellent. We could open up an entire new market in the film industry there merely by offering them a sample of our stock—"

"—division of the organization usually prefers to remain autonomous, I realize, but this kind of opportunity doesn't come every day—"

One of the men shifted uneasily in his chair, greenish eyes flickering in trepidation as Zakucho-sama's attention swung his way. "You spoke on this last week, correct, ShenSun-san? And the week before as well, I believe?" ShenSun was from their Chinese branch, only recently transferred in; perhaps that would explain the flash of defiance in his face as he looked up.

"Yes, Zakucho-sama. I know this branch of the Organization has remained mostly, ehh, self-sufficient except for when team strength was concerned, but this growing emphasis on nearly complete autonomy can only lead to trouble." ShenSun-san leaned forward a little, resting his hands on the table as he warmed to the subject. "The main organization has the larger numbers, more contacts, taps into nearly every level of—"

"And you are suggesting that we should rejoin? Combine our forces once more, perhaps?" The voice of the man at the end of the table was mild.

That should have been ShenSun-san's _first_ warning.

"Yes! Our numbers haven't increased as significantly as theirs, mostly due to this—this _elitest _policy of yours-- I understand the idea of family ties to ensure loyalty, but surely—"

Silver grey flickered suddenly in the shadows to Zakucho-sama's left. "If I may, ShenSun-san… You seem to be laboring under a misunderstanding; several times I've heard you speak of the Hatazesa as 'this branch' of the 'main Organization', as if we were lesser than the rest." His cold, smooth voice made the other man's eyes narrow. "Perhaps you should remember that we are the _older_ of the two; the Hatazesa have been in business for centures, not a mere handful of decades." He leaned back, the glitter of his eyes sharp as needles. "We have our own strengths; why should we rejoin with an organization that has proven weaker than our own?" Jiro-san smiled thinly. "They have their agenda and _we_ have ours; I see no benefit in dragging our feet to match their slower, weaker pace." His smile grew a little, edged with malice. "In fact, I've even heard a rumor lately that they've been researching drugs to prolong the natural lifespan… An interesting idea, isn't it?" That brought several bursts of brief, nervous laughter from around the room, though none of it came from the figure at the end of the table.

"ShenSun-san."

"—I-- Yes, Zakucho-sama?" The man sat back a little as the first trickles of apprehension began making their way down his spine. It wasn't so much the tone of voice as the way the others at the board-table were edging away from him, drawing back without being too obvious about it—

"ShenSun-san….." Coppery bronze eyes flashed through the shadows, and suddenly the Chinese boardmember _simply could not move._ "You're descended from the Inoe side of the family, aren't you? The branch that emigrated during the 1860's?" Zakucho-sama smiled a little, steepling his hands before him. "Yes, the Inoe family line. Excellent potential there… a pity that their sole representative seems to be willing to bow to the pressure of mere numbers. One would hate to see such a thing as a _weakness_ among us, true?"

Zakucho-sama's voice was still mild, still quite gentle. To his left, Jiro shivered as _something_ in the air seemed to make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He was not alone; every person at the table suddenly quivered into alertness, including ShenSun-san…

…but the Chinese man merely attempted to shrug his discomfort off and opened his mouth again to speak… "Za—"

…before a look of utter horror crossed his face. There was a muffled squeak as all the air in his lungs was abruptly expelled out in an involuntary, muscle-tearing spasm of _PAIN_ as, deep inside, a process began...

**"No—Zakucho-sama, please, _please-- NO--!!! Nonono—nnyaaagh—"_**

What followed was not pretty, but it was, at least, brief. Zakucho-sama was a busy man, after all.

When the crunching, crackling sounds had died away, the head of what was known publicly as the HataSessa Corporation (and privately among its members as the _Hatazesa) _raised one eyebrow at the dark at the dried and reeking corpse that sat in ShenSun-san's chair; a copper-golden eye glittered in satisfaction. "Pity. Such a shame when standards are allowed to slide, especially within family; let us all remember ShenSun-san's sad ending and profit from his valiant example. Examples are so very important, aren't they? And now, let's see… ChungYuan-san, you are his successor, are you not?" A terrified nod was his answer, though it took the man two attempts before the other man could make it. "Excellent. We'll talk after the meeting, you and I, and lay any lingering doubts you might have to rest."

The dark voice smiled, showing teeth. "And after _that,_ you can lay your predecessor to rest along with them, can't you?" Zakucho-sama chuckled into the silence that followed.

"And now," purred the smiling man, "I have a few things I'd like to discuss about a certain pet project of mine….." The smiling man gestured without looking towards the seat at his right. "Suo, would you—"

He stopped. Around the table, the other men held their breaths.

_"…Ahhhh._ Of course. Suo is-- But habit is a chain not lightly broken, it seems…….." For a moment the cold eyes blazed foxfire-orange with a strange, almost insane light. "—but never mind. The Hatazesa's loss will be repaid in full, soon enough. If you will, Jiro, please begin with your findings—?"

"Of course, Zakucho-sama." Ignoring both the corpse at the table and the empty chair that had up to very recently been occupied at each meeting by his deceased brother, the man called Jiro stood up and began to speak. "You are all, of necessity, familiar with the targets concerning the Pandora Gem— Kuroba Toiichi, terminated with prejudice roughly a decade past; Kuroba Hikarue, his wife; Kuroba Kaito, his son, and of course Nakamori Ginzo and Nakamori Aoko. Recently, though, two more players have entered the game, ones you should all know either from personal experience or from our files—"

Beside him, his father sat listening, his tiger's eyes shining fever-bright. Occasionally they would stray towards the empty chair at his other elbow where his eldest son had once sat; and when they did they would flicker a little, hot and coppery as blood in the dark.

The Phantom Thief came home to Tokyo an hour or so before lunchtime, hands in pockets and whistling as if he hadn't a care in the world. Of course, the fact that he currently looked as unalike a certain Kuroba Kaito as was humanly possible might have had something to do with it…

_/One of these days,/_ Kaito (or rather 'Mioko-chan', at that particular moment) thought as he carefully maneuvered over a broken bit of pavement, _/I'm gonna have a word with the morons who design women's clothes. Honest to God, WHY do the damned things have to be this uncomfortable? I mean, blouses and skirts and pants and all, fine; but the bra… even with an A-cup, it's still itchy. And I always have to go for a B—my shoulders are too wide for an A-cup to be believable./_ Resisting the urge to tug at a strap, the young woman that the Phantom Thief was currently dressed as pushed back a straggle of hair and adjusted 'her' backpack before taking a seat at a bus-stop about two blocks from a certain house.

_/Sweatshirts are sweatshirts, jeans are jeans, no problem there, and at least I can get away with boots if they look feminine enough,/_ he went on with his internal grumble; it was a good distraction from other, less welcome thoughts. _/Good thing I've got smallish feet, I guess. But jeeze, the goddamn bra… it ITCHES. Maybe I ought to try a sports-bra next time I end up in this disguise? Wonder if I could get Aoko to take me shopping for one?/_

…and wouldn't _that_ be an interesting conversation? 'She' shoved back the irritating strand of hair under her hat one more time and tucked gloved hands into pockets, leaning back against a pole. The bus-stop was half-full today, people were either heading out to lunch or heading back; good cover for a stray kaitou returning stealthily (if temporarily) to the fold…

Distractions were _important._

Most of Kaito's return-trip back onboard the Shinkansen had been, frankly, pretty miserable—there were things he didn't want to think about, things that intruded and abraded his heart a little too rawly yet; it hadn't been until he had managed to doze off for a bit that he had managed to regain something approaching equilibrium. Sleep was really high on Kaito's priority-list right now, ranking right up there with food.

Well, so long as it wasn't scones. He didn't think he'd ever eat another scone again, so long as he lived—

_/--and let's just think about something else RIGHT NOW, okay? Don't want to start that chain rattling again, I'm so sick and tired of it I could--/ _'Mioko' refocused on the world with a slight jerk as a hydraulic _psssht!_ of breaks announced the arrival of the bus; 'she' boarded with the rest of the passengers and took a seat near the front, next to an old woman who nodded over her parcels and snored lightly (_/Don't mind me, Obaasan, just a crossdressing wanted criminal, totally harmless, I promise you--/) _as the bus jerked into motion. 'Mioko-chan' slid her backpack off gratefully, glancing up at the posted route-schedule; she had two stops before getting off…

…and then 'she' would walk three more blocks at a diagonal, duck around a corner behind a Day-Care center and wait for _another_ bus. This had been going on ever since one Kuroba Kaito had stepped off the Shinkansen platform and had listened in on a nearby newsvendor's radio. The broadcast had been brief but informative; and certain comments, even though they had been expected, had fairly made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

_"--Inspector Nakamori's disappearance and return has put Tokyo's law enforcement on high alert status; though official reports deny any connection between his temporary absence and the Kaitou Kid's activities, no efforts are being spared in the search for the suspect of last night's theft—"_ Kaito had been half-sunk in brooding, not really paying much attention until then; as the old man at the news-stand turned the volume up, his eyebrows had slowly risen in turn.

_"Sources say that a member of Nakamori-keibu's family caused some concern to the authorities by also apparently disappearing; however, the family member has been located and is known to be in safe custody—"_

That had been stretching things a bit; but a quick phone-call by Jii to Kaito's mother had taken care of any Oh-My-#$&!!ing-God,-My-Daughter's-Missing,-Call-Out-The-Dogs worries that Nakamori might have had. According to Jii, she had dealt with the Inspector's paranoia as well as her son's supposed suspension by claiming a family medical emergency; and rather than leave Aoko and Kaito alone, Kuroba Hikarue had apologetically claimed to have taken them with her. By all accounts Nakamori had been somewhat relieved, though the school principal—

_/Who gives a damn about the principal? Hell, at this point I don't know if I'll ever even be able to go back. It'd be nice to graduate if I can, though; what a pain, making it this far juggling school and my 'night job' and then not graduating..… and why am I worrying about that kind of crap right now? It's not like I don't have bigger problems than school—/_

The gaping sense of _distance_ that had welled up inside the thief ever since that morning's conversation was becoming muffled; trivia did that, filled in the spaces and cracks with tiny (or not-so-tiny) concerns and worries and niggling little squiggly pieces of thought. None of them were really enough to cover the overwhelming pit that seemed to have taken residence somewhere around Kaito's spine, but they helped. The sleep had helped too, and now he concentrated on the itch of his disguise, the way the bus rumbled and made his head ache, the question of what to do when he got home….. Distractions again; moodily, 'Mioko' hunched her shoulders up and contemplated the floor of the bus. It was better than thinking.

Traffic came and went; the young woman with the backpack got off at the appropriate stop and wandered to her next destination, outwardly unconcerned but inwardly almost supernaturally alert. Every vehicle that passed, every person on the sidewalk or shooting by on a bicycle, they were all scrutinized with the quick attention to detail that made up so much of Kuroba Kaito's personal armament. Nobody seemed the least suspicious so far, but-- _/Ah; there. The two guys waiting on the bench—plainclothes cops, or I'll eat my monocle. Okay, that's the first sighting I've had near Aoko's house; let's see how far the radius extends…/_ The next bus-trip and subsequent stroll gave him two more sightings, one in a car by the side of the road and the other on foot. _/Good, they're keeping a pretty decent watch on her house—and therefore, mine as well./_ Kaito actually approved; it was much better when you knew where the cops actually were.

And besides, it kept him from thinking about other things.

_/Hmmm… I haven't used the Coop Entrance in a while; that'll work. Hope the damned hinges aren't still sticking--/_ 'Mioko' got off at an appropriate stop and hitched her backpack up onto one shoulder, heading ostensibly towards a small side-street that ran between the last section of houses before the industrial area began…

_/Here we go--/_ A side-door on a somewhat discrepant building gave way to a lockpick (hidden in 'Mioko's' bra—the things _did_ come in handy sometimes, especially for storage), and the resulting dusty room allowed access to a floor panel. The somewhat rickety ladder only led down six steps; the tunnel beneath was not really tall enough for comfort, but it only ran like that for a few dozen feet before it abruptly dropped down a foot. Normally Kaito would have pulled out a flashlight at this point; thin slips of light filtered down here and there from overhead grating, not usually enough to see by—

--before—

His vision greyed out slightly, and he wavered as he caught his balance. _/Never mind 'before', just watch your feet, idiot. So you're tired; big goddamn deal. That's no excuse for clumsiness./_ This part of the route got a pretty good amount of runoff every time it rained, so trash underfoot was common. Broken glass crunched here and there, and a faint rustle came from the spill of dead leaves lining the drainage-sink edging the narrow tunnel. Bugs or rats, probably; just another creature that found the dark less of a problem than most.

_/Just like me. **God**, why did I---/_

_/--Shut-the-hell-UP already. Think about what you're going to do when you make it home, okay? It'll all be better after you've had some sleep./_

_/It has to be./_

First things first: Kaito wanted a shower, a change of clothes, food and sleep so badly that he couldn't even have said which one he wanted first… _/Shower first, then the rest. Either that or I eat something in the shower, which rules out sandwiches. Do we still have some grapes? Grapes'd work…/_ Pushing open a well-hidden panel in the wall that the tunnel apparently dead-ended in, the thief crawled into the opening with a conspicuous lack of his usual limberness. _/Man oh man, I am so TIRED… and hungry; I could eat a horse; don't bother cooking it, just serve it up raw with a little wasabi please and pass the chopsticks./_ Dust powdered down from cracks above as he crawled; Kaito muffled a cough—it wouldn't do to make any noise, the passage ran just beneath a set of efficiency apartments two blocks from his house—and crawled doggedly on.

Fifteen minutes, three changes in level and a nasty wade through a drainage-washed flowthrough brought him to a narrow, cement-walled electrical maintenance corridor that shouldn't have been where it was at all; Kaito had often wondered how the thing came to be built in the first place (and why it did not show up on any of the city blueprints). Over his head traffic rumbled, rattling the outdated light-fixtures as he trudged through the final leg of the Coop Entrance route. At last, a rickety ladder led upwards to a hatch; he paused at the bottom, methodically made a chalk-mark on the wall with the piece that had always lain there since the first time he had passed that way and continued up the ladder. It led to a wooden hatch; and _that_ (at last) opened out to sunlight—

_"Cooooooo!! CooWOOOOOooo!!!" _--and a storm of white-feathered wings.

"Hey, guys," muttered the weary thief, closing the hatch behind him and staggering to his feet as doves fluttered and flapped madly in all directions; the explosion of birds settled after a moment, and then the first curious pair of pink feet came in for a landing on Kaito's bewigged head. "Yeah, yeah, I'm glad to see you too, Usagi." He leaned heavily against the coop wall and stroked a feathered breast with a finger; the dove that was busily pigeon-toeing its way down onto his shoulder was one of the older birds, one that had actually belonged to his father. "You been keeping the others in line, huh? Good for you."

_"WooooOOOT!"_

"Yeah, you tell 'em." Kaito picked a stray feather from his hair, allowing the dove to nibble at his fingers. "Keep an eye out for any suspicious birds wearing all black, okay? According to Kudo, they've got informants planted all over the place…" Wearily, almost staggering, he slung his backpack over one shoulder and fished around for his keys…

* * *

…and on the other side of the door:

_Crunch, munch…. crunch….._

"You know, Shinichi, this really _isn't_ how I expected to be spending the day when you said 'Hey Rin-kun, want to go check on something interesting?'"

"It could be worse, you know… we could have gone with your mom and dad to that hot spring resort."

"How could THAT be worse? Pass me the milk, please—" There was the faintest hiss somewhere in the background of oiled hinges, but the two were too intent on what they were doing to notice.

"Think about it. What happened the last time we went to one?"

"Um--- I, um, dragged you in-- Shinichi, that's no _fair! _I didn't KNOW it was you—"

"Yeah, but if we went along this time, your _dad'd_ eventually remember that… and then I'd probably end up floating face-down in the nearest pool. Retroactive abortion, no waiting…"

"Oh. I guess—"

"No guessing; I _know_ he'd murder me. He still hasn't forgiven me for all those sleeping-darts." _Crunch, slurp._ A metal spoon chimed against a bowl. "And if the Professor hadn't let that slip, he'd still think he was the Amazing Sleeping Ko—"

**_tttTHHWAAACKKK_****_!!! PING-ping-PANG-tinkle_**_tinkletinkle…tinkle….._

Frozen in the action of raising a spoonful of cereal to his mouth, the former Kudo Shinichi stared in irritation through spotted, milk-dripping glasses as his utensil clattered into the sink where the projectile from the Kaitou Kid's cardgun had sent it. "Do you MIND?" he said, hand still raised to grip a spoon that was no longer there.

There was a prolonged moment of silence.

Standing shakily in the doorway was somebody that—well, they HAD to be the Kid, of course, but… "Kuroba, that—IS you, isn't it?" Saying that the exhausted-looking young woman leaning against the jamb had seen hard times was being generous; calling her 'critically fatigued' would be more accurate. 'She'—if it _was_ Kuroba, which Conan was pretty certain of—had shadows around her hollow eyes and bags holding the shadows; 'her' hair (a very good wig) was rather disheveled and had somehow acquired a feather tucked over one ear, and a smear of grime decorated the bridge of an artfully-freckled nose as well. One slightly grimy glove reached up to brush a straggle of hair back as the cardgun wavered and dropped.

"…Kudo? What—" If the thief's long-lashed eyes could have gotten any wider, they would have been in danger of popping right out. "W-what are you two _doing in my kitchen?!?"_

"Eating a very late breakfast," said Rin, eyeing the cardgun carefully; "and waiting for you to arrive." Sitting with her legs tucked beneath her, the young woman in the child's body gestured with a small hand (only shaking a little, really) at the box of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs that sat by the milk-carton. "We didn't want to miss you…"

Conan removed his glasses, wiping them on the tail of his shirt. "Well, I'm damned glad he missed ME," he muttered, quirking one eyebrow up at the thief. "What's the matter? Had a long night? You'd almost think you'd been running from the police or something…" And he smiled a small, slanted smirk that did not belong on a gradeschooler's face. "So how was Kyoto?"

Slowly the 'young woman' sagged against the doorway, bringing her hands up to rub at tired eyes; _bonk! _went the cardgun against a temple, but the impact was ignored. "Chibis…" 'she' muttered; "My home has been invaded by chibis… WHAT are you two doing waiting for me? And why HERE?!? Couldn't you hold out until—"

"—until you grabbed whatever you came back for and disappeared, maybe for good? Not on your life." The boy replaced his somewhat smeared glasses and regarded Kuroba Kaito's current appearance critically. "Not to sound judgmental or anything, but you look like something the cat dragged in." _("Mroww?"_ queried a voice from beneath the table.) "We listened in on the police broadcasts and we know things didn't go exactly as planned." He brushed a flake of cereal off one cheek and scowled. "Well? You do know that they took several prisoners, right? And what the _hell _happened to Hattori and that British guy what's-his-name, Hakuba-san? Hattori called me up and sounded ready to spit nails, what'd you—"

The sound that the disguised thief made could have accurately been described either as a growl or a groan; it stopped the flow of words effectively. "Wait." With an effort, bleary eyes focused on the small detective's face as Kuroba Kaito carefully enunciated his words. "Nuh-uh…can't deal with chibis or details or anything just yet… Need. A. _Shower._ Fifteen minutes."

"Huh?" A blank stare was the only answer Conan received. The hand that wasn't holding the cardgun plucked the Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs from the table and, clutching both, the 'young woman' wobbled around the corner towards the stairs, heavy footfalls unsteady on the floor. A little disconcerted, Conan blinked at Rin, who shrugged. "Uh, right, fifteen minutes…"

Halfway to the stairs the footfalls stopped. "—Urgh? What's this stuff on my front door?"

"Oh, that? It's a bomb… Don't worry, though, I disarmed it."

Silence. A long one this time, full of raised eyebrows. Rin blinked at Conan; _he_ shrugged.

"…..bomb, fine, _right._ Tell me later. AFTER my shower….." The footsteps continued up the stairs.

"How do you suppose he's going to eat cereal in the shower?" wondered Rin apropos of nothing, settling back in her chair and tucking her feet back under her (the chair-seats were a little low if you weren't much more than a meter tall). "Won't it get soggy?"

Conan stared down at his half-empty cereal bowl, considering the haunted, almost dazed look in the thief's eyes; something was wrong, something beyond mere exhaustion or stress. "I seriously doubt he cares much about that just now."

Upstairs, to the background of the sound of a shower running and the occasional _crunchcrunchmunch_ of a rather damp box of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs being steadily emptied:

"…..did he say…..a **_bomb?_**"

"…………He **_did_** say a bomb, didn't he? I think he did……."

"………………………………"

_Crunchcrunchchomp…_

"…….Holy shit."

* * *

The soft rustle of turning pages greeted Kuroba when he came back down the stairs, barefoot and wearing a pair of loose drawstring pants and a damp towel. "Feeling better, Kuroba-san?" inquired Rin from where she sat cross-legged on a floor-pillow, reading; Conan glanced up with one eyebrow quirked from his own place beside her but said nothing.

"'Kaito' will be okay," he said wryly, scrubbing at his hair with the towel until it stood completely on end. "Being called 'Kuroba-san' in my own home makes me feel like I'm being interrogated…" He shot the small boy next to Rin an ironic look. "'Course, if the shoe fits— How DID you two get in without being seen by the cops across the street, anyway?"

Conan looked smug. "We came in by a back alleyway; nobody pays attention to two kids playing with a skateboard, not if they don't make any trouble. None of the officers out front work with Megure-keibu, so they didn't know us…" He closed the binder he had been reading, and fought back a grin at Kaito's sudden arrested look. Apparently his host had just noticed uneasily that the binders he and Rin were reading looked very familiar.

_Disturbingly _familiar, in fact, from the look on his face…..

Goosebumps were actually visible as the thief stared in horror, leveling an outraged finger. "You—you're reading my-- Ahhhhh_SHIT!!! _Goddammit, Kudo, I—" Breathing hard, Kaito Kuroba sat down with a heavy _thump!_ beside his impromptu houseguests. "Fine, just wonderful, why _shouldn't_ you both be reading my personal heist notebooks? Go right ahead, make yourselves at home. At this point I think I'm too tired to care." He flopped bonelessly over backwards to lie sprawling on the floor, towel across his face. "I mean, I can understand your breaking in and all… Tit for tat and so forth, ne? And if you got your hands on _those,_ that means you found something else, too. A _BIG_ something else." One rather bloodshot eye peered out from beneath a fold of towel. "You've been in my dad's room, haven't you?" It was almost more of a statement than a question.

The two faux gradeschoolers looked at each other for a moment. "I really liked your clock," ventured Rin almost timidly.

"Mmph. Thanks." A forearm went back to rest across Kuroba's eyes, mostly covered with towel; droplets still glittered on his bare torso. "My dad made that, probably at about the time I was born….. Most of the stuff in that room was his to begin with, but it's all mine now whether I want it or not, every last sonic grenade, top hat and explosive chocolate-bar in the place." He sighed, and his voice trailed off. "Doesn't matter that you saw it now, I guess….."

Conan's eyes narrowed, but Rin had other, more uncomfortable things on her mind than oblique statements. "'Explosive chocolate bars'?" she asked carefully

The dark blue eye slanted her way from beneath the towel. "Ate some, did you?" She nodded guiltily, her arms wrapped around her middle and her eyes beginning to grow wide. "Did they have red labels or dark brown ones?"

"Um…. Dark brown?"

"Oh, okay; don't worry about it then, those were fine. I keep 'em to munch on when I'm working…"

Beside Rin, light flashed off glass lenses as Conan sat up a little. "You don't seem too concerned about the bomb," he commented casually. "Aren't you even a little curious about who planted it?"

"Nope."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really… I mean, how many lethally-minded enemies does _Kuroba Kaito_ have? This is where **_I_** live, not the Kaitou Kid, so far as the world knows, right? And aside from Nakamori-san when he thinks I'm getting too close to his daughter, the only guy who might want to mess me up is way too Law-And-Order-Sir to even think about planting a bomb." He laughed briefly, the sound muffled. "He'd probably rather challenge me to pistols at dawn or something suitably British. You've both met him before—"

"The one who was following you when we went to the video arcade? That was—He was at your, um, heist, wasn't he? Hakuba-san?" Rin sat up a little, interested. "The same person who we met at the Golden Sunset Mansion, wasn't he?"

_yaaaaaaawn…_ "Yeah, that's him. Not a bad guy for somebody with a magnifying-glass stuck up his—" Kuroba pulled the towel off his face and blinked. "—never mind. He's okay, most of the time… just a little too obsessive-compulsive about being the one who catches me, is all. So, anyway…. no, I'm not all that concerned about the bomb— it wasn't set to kill _me._ It was set to drive me out into the open, most likely by an injury. Wasn't very powerful, was it? I didn't think so. And they probably just used some anonymous Black Org flunky to set it, anyway." Another yawn; the teenager on the floor stretched, joints cracking. "Owwww… You know something? Anybody who thinks that being a thief is _easy_ work ought to try it a time or two…" He stretched again, one hand gripping behind the other elbow as he bent his arms in improbable ways. "Think I used muscles I didn't even know I HAD before last night—"

There was something about what he had just said that bothered Conan obscurely; he shelved it away to think about later. In the meantime, Rin was watching the thief with a slightly bemused look in her eyes; the young man inside Conan's head tried not to growl as her gaze traveled across Kuroba's bare torso. "Your shoulder… Weren't you shot? That's what made you hide in Ayumi's closet in the first place, isn't it? So… _why_ isn't there a mark? I mean, other than a couple of scars, you aren't even hurt. _Why?_"

It was almost comical how Kuroba Kaito froze, one arm extended over his head and the other behind the nape of his neck; almost, that is, unless you were paying attention to the way his one visible eye popped open in a quickly-hidden look of dismay. And Rin was right; there was a dimpled pattern of scar-tissue on one shoulder, several lines and puckerings of skin further down around the ribs… but that was all. Where the hell were the wounds? Conan had seen the bloodstains himself—there was no doubt that the thief had actually been injured, and it hadn't been all _that_ long ago… so why was there no trace of the gunshot showing?

And why was Kuroba freaking out? Okay, so it was a sort of calm, quiet freaking out, but still—

The young man with the towel across his face slowly sat up, damp cloth dropping into his lap. His famous Poker Face had slammed down into place with a nearly audible thud, and other than that split-second of dread his eyes showed very little. One hand, the right one, crept up to the scars on his left shoulder, and for a moment a flicker of indecision made the illusion of calm waver. Then that was over; some conclusion had been reached.

"Heh; as for that… Rin-kun? Do you like magic tricks?"

The girl blinked; then her eyes narrowed a bit. "Magic tricks? Like what?" and her companion's irritation slid over at least a little into amusement. _/Good for you, Ran—okay, I know, we have to trust him, but that doesn't mean we need to be stupid about it./_

Oddly enough, Kuroba's expression slid into a charming smile as well, if you ignored he hint of bitterness around the edges. "Oh, a card trick! Y'know… hearts, diamonds, clubs, spades…" From apparently thin air he suddenly produced a deck of cards, red and blue in his thin fingers; where the hell had those come from? Sitting crosslegged, the thief continued to talk airily as his hands moved, shuffling. "Did you know that the kings in the suites all represent famous guys from history? The King of Spades is King David from way back in the Old Testament, the King of Hearts is Charlemagne, Clubs is Alexander the Great, Diamonds is Julius Caesar…" The King of Diamonds appeared on top of the deck and he held it up, smiling a little; the card glinted oddly metallic along its edges, and Conan realized with an abrupt surge of almost-fear that this was one of the decks used for the Kid's bizarre card-gun—the slips of paper were still very thin, but each was apparently reinforced by a layer of something stiff and sharp.

The thief flipped the card over in his fingers, still smiling faintly down at the stylized face; it seemed to smile back. "Julius Caesar… he was assassinated, y'know?" And he held the card up. "Now, watch closely: Nothing up my sleeve…" **_FLICK!_** The card was whipped along one bare arm, drawing a painfully bright red line from wrist to elbow and making Rin exclaim out loud. "No, no, it's okay—just watch: this is the trick."

Bright droplets of blood ran down the shallow cut, gathering at the bottom and dripping slowly onto the floor; what in the world was the idiot doing?

…and then _the cut closed up before their eyes._ Conan's jaw dropped; that sort of thing just didn't happen…

_"Abracadabra,"_ said the Phantom Thief softly.

Without another word he wiped the runnels of blood away on the cuff of his pants; the skin beneath was perfect and unmarred. Looking up briefly, tired blue eyes met those of his astounded audience's, and Kuroba Kaito smiled despite whatever pain seemed to be on his mind. "Don't even bother to ask… A good magician never tells his secrets, ne?"

"…Maybe not," said Conan quietly, shaking off the shock of the moment; "But a friend might tell another friend, if they needed to talk. Something went _really_ wrong last night, didn't it? Something other than what happened to Nakamori… He _is_ alright, isn't he? The newscasts said he had been found and was unharmed."

"Oh, he's fine. Mad as hell, but he's got a couple of shiny new culprits to interrogate now; dunno how much good'll come out of that, but at least they're proof of something going on beyond my little productions. That's the big thing—actual physical proof, after all this time and effort… and now I've got to figure out what to do next." Kaito sat staring down at the red-edged card in his hand and the blood-drops on his floor; without making a fuss over it, Rin pulled out a grubby Kleenex from one pocket and wiped it up, stuffing the soiled scrap back into her pocket. "Thanks, but you didn't have to do that," said the thief, not meeting her eyes; she just shrugged and offered him a shaky little smile and he nodded as if she HAD answered him out loud. "Friends, huh?" he repeated softly, one eyebrow rising; after a moment Kuroba smiled wryly. "I guess… maybe you're right. Easier _done_ than _said_, though, isn't it?"

And that Conan had to agree with. Sometimes actions were a lot less troublesome than explanations.

An awkward silence fell between the three; one of Kaito's hands, the one holding the card, ran absentminded fingers across the smooth skin of his forearm and then traveled up to rub briefly at the rougher scar-tissue of his shoulder in what seemed to be a habitual gesture. "How's Ayumi-chan doing?" he asked abruptly, seemingly at random. "Is she okay?" And he yawned hugely.

It was Rin who answered this time, pulling her legs up and clasping her hands around her knees. "She's fine, but she asked us if we had heard from you yesterday… I think she has something she wants to talk to you about; she seems a little worried." The face that watched the thief was a little girl's, heart-shaped and innocent; but the eyes were Mouri Ran's, and there was more warning than innocence in them. "Is there something we should be worrying about concerning Ayumi-kun? If there is, you might want to tell us before you go off and disappear…"

Beside her, Conan very carefully held his peace; boiling over wouldn't help anything, but if the thief didn't answer then he'd—

Maybe something of his tension communicated itself anyway as Kuroba laughed softly, so softly that it was a mere ghost of humor, and slumped back again on his floor-cushion with his hands clasped behind his head. "''Fess up or we'll hurt you', you mean? Yeah….. and no. There's no problem, not exactly; I—just wanted to make sure she was okay." For a moment his tired eyes were hooded, keeping something inside; a flash of that same hurt that had appeared when he had done his 'magic trick' was there, shuttered tight behind secrets upon secrets upon secrets...

And the Kaitou Kid was _good_ with secrets. It was, thought Conan, a pretty decent bet that he wasn't going to learn anything about what the hell had happened unless he gave Kuroba a reason to talk. Therefore, like the born detective he was, he changed his methods and took a new approach to the problem… There was a tactic that his dad had used once before, in a mystery novel he had written years past. '_If you pretend like you know more than you do, people talk more freely,'_ he had commented during a discussion with Shinichi's mother over plot development. (well, it _could_ have been called a discussion, if discussions tended towards the severely loud—the storyline was one of the Night Baroness' series, and Yukiko hadn't liked the way it had been going). _'It's an old trick,'_ he had said with one of his disarming grins, _'but it works in all the spy movies, doesn't it?'_

His son sincerely hoped so. Torturing the thief for information on a rack or over hot coals would be a little difficult.

So Conan settled back on his own floor-pillow, unconsciously mirroring the thief by propping his head on his clasped hands. "Ayumi-kun… well, there's the _eye_ thing, of course—" he said casually. What had Ai mentioned in that alley? Something about changes in refraction... "Other than that, she seems okay. Did it give you and Aoko-san much trouble?" Beside him Rin stirred slightly but then subsided; good.

"No, not really…" To his immense satisfaction the thief seemed to be rising to the bait. "It's not hurting her, is it? I mean, it didn't hurt me or Aoko, it was just sort of hard to get used to." With a frustrated sigh, he flopped one arm across the eyes in question, hiding them as if he could preserve something and keep it safe by the gesture. "What a pain. Like we (_yaaaaaawn) _didn't have enough to deal with….. When'd she show you?"

"Uh—" The boy stifled a sudden twinge of unexpected guilt. "She, well—"

"Oh yeah, that's right; you don't like to lie about your friends. _(Yaaaaaaaawn) _Sort of comforting to know, really… It's okay, no big deal." Kuroba's matter-of-fact, drowsy tone of voice did not change as he said this in the least; it was as though he had been expecting him to tell an untruth all along—

_/God DAMN it. Just how much **can** he read what I'm going to do? I'm not used to opponents who can predict how I'm going to jump…… Of course, we're not supposed to be 'opponents' now exactly, are we? Maybe that's the problem; maybe it's ME this time, not him./ _Behind Edogawa Conan's eyes, Kudo Shinichi winced. "I…"

Still sprawled out, the magician yawned protractedly again and slid his arm a little up. "I can understand you two wanting to know what's going on; it's what you're best at, right? And this IS 'Yumi-chan we're talking about. But y'know, you could just come right out and ask instead of trying to trick an answer out of me." He scratched at his damp hair, which sprang up as wildly as if to show that it liked the attention; vaguely Conan recalled hearing Ayumi saying something about her teacher's hair 'eating combs.'

"If we just came out and asked you why you healed like that and what's going on with yours and Ayumi's eyes, would you actually tell us?" asked Rin rather bluntly. "You already said that 'magicians never tell their secrets', didn't you?"

"Oh, well…" Disarmingly the thief grinned, his mercurial nature seeming to shed a lot of his previous upset as he fought back another yawn. "It's just too much fun to play with your heads sometimes." He stretched, curling up a little on the floor-pillow. "Sorry, Rin-kun, but that's how I am; generations and generations of my kaitou ancestors would start doing backflips in their graves if I didn't tease you both just a little bit before coming clean. And… well, I know we're supposed to be trusting each other and everything, but that doesn't mean I have to be _stupid_ about it, do I?"

Conan blinked.

"And….. 'sides…….. I need sleep. _Really_ need sleep, I mean, and this'll take a LOT of explaining." Tired eyes had already begun the last of their descent as Kuroba curled a little onto his side. "Wasn't gonna tell either of you at first, but… somebody should know. Somebody else, I mean, besides me and Aoko and Jii and the other two….." (Conan and Rin traded puzzled looks: _What other two?)_ "Tell you what… Lemmee _(yaaaaaaaaaaaaawn)_ nap for a bit, drag a few brain-cells together and take care of some stuff I need to do here, and then I'll walk you both back to your place and explain on the way, okay? Sound reasonable?"

The two looked at each other dubiously; Conan scowled and pushed his glasses back up his nose as he nodded. "I guess…"

The thief's eyes were completely closed by now, and he clutched the towel as if it were a teddy-bear. "Works f'r me… keep away from the windows, there's not s'posed to be anybody here, y'know. Just gonna… nap for a little while… 'kay?" And with almost alarming speed his breathing slowed, deepened, and leveled into sleep.

Rin _stared._ "He really must trust us, just to go to sleep like that and let us wander around his house… Do you REALLY think he's asleep?" Her little-girl voice was lowered and she moved as quietly as possible as she got up from the floor pillow. "He looks bad, doesn't he? Worn out—"

"Mm. Whatever happened was pretty severe, to stress somebody with _his_ kind of lifestyle out." Conan rose as well, sock-clad feet silent on the floor. "C'mon; let's just let him sleep. There's something I'd like to get a better look at." He headed determinedly towards the hall.

But behind him Rin hung back a little, staring over one shoulder at the sleeping thief. "Rin--?"

"Nothing… It's okay." But as they left the room she glanced back one more time, face troubled.

* * *

Finding the magician's 'lair' had been easy enough when you realized it had to be _somewhere_ in the house. The portrait had been fairly obvious; opening it, however, had taken a little more work. Rin and Conan had spent nearly an hour examining the frame, canvas, nearby bookcases, rough bits of the wall and tiles underfoot before simply shoving on the thing in exasperation. It had given, but only slightly; it took a push at just the right height to make the catch actually click open and allow them through. _That_ had required a bit of gymnastic maneuvering, and it was a good thing that there were two of them there.

And inside? Oh, there was _plenty_ there to keep them busy…

"Shinichi? SHINICHI, watch out for that—"

"Awp!" _THUD._

"—oh well… It's not like you could make much more of a mess…"

A mess—the hidden room was all of that; but it was an organized mess in its own odd way. Tools were stored beside tools, disguises were stored with other disguises, explosive-whatevers were stored with more explosive-whatevers… The room was surprisingly large; from its layout, it was fairly apparent that it was mostly underground but had occasional bits that ran alongside and between the regular parts of the house. Like the stairwell, for instance, the one with the boarded-up trapdoor at the top… _that_ was almost TOO intriguing. And then there were the doors, three of them, one hidden in the back of a closet; the sole unlocked door nearest the entrance opened onto a bricked-up wall.

Toolboxes, workbenches, racks and racks of costume items (certain parts of which were either utterly amazing or blatantly impossible—Conan hoped. Not even the Kid would wear that purple velvet backless evening-gown, would he? Or the pink-sequined tutu? Or the penguin costume?) and masks and so forth—a LOT of so forth, all of it crowded into every available space. One could easily tell which areas had been used by the present incarnation of the Kid; they were spotless, if cluttered, but everywhere else the dust lay thick. Overhead the ceiling was hung with models of flying things, bits of machinery and less identifiable devices; there were boxes full of other boxes and a really remarkable amount of opened and unopened locks, doorknobs and security mechanisms lying about everywhere… Books, books and more books, an entire workbench devoted to jewelry-work, models and half-put-together (or half-torn-apart) gizmos and experimental gear, diagrams and notes pinned on walls and bookcases, the occasional scamper of mouse-feet or the dangle of a spider…..

And then there was the car.

Conan was aware that he had lost points to sheer Male Stereotyping when he saw the car; how on _EARTH_ had the Kid's father (it had to have been his father, considering the amount of dust) gotten a car inside the room? And why that particular car? You'd expect an international criminal to drive a Jaguar or at the very least a Ferrari, not a 1957 Volkswagon Kharmann-Ghia Coupe… Still, it _was_ a car, and Conan had wasted no time climbing in, crawling beneath and peering under the hood as soon as possible. With a shrug, Rin had turned her attention to the racks of outfits lining the west wall.

"Shinichi, look!" With dust smudging his face, the young detective glanced up from his investigation of the chassis; Rin was holding up an appallingly familiar dress, red with a white collar. "Remember when the Kid impersonated me at Sonoko's mother's party? That Black Pearl thing?"

Her companion rolled his eyes, wiping a streak of grease from his cheek and depositing a larger one in its place. "Don't remind me….. What's that?"

'That' referred to a silvery metal rod about a meter long and perhaps as thick as Conan's wrist; Rin hefted it in one small hand. "I don't know; I found it over by the entrance and used it to get my—I mean, his dress down…" She blushed. "That just doesn't sound _right_ somehow." Turning the rod over, she blinked. "There's some sort of button, just a second—" _Click!_

_Cl-clack-clack-clack-clack-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK!_ Two startled pairs of eyes examined the sizable pole-ladder that now extended across most of the room; thick pegs rather than rungs stuck out to either side of the central rod. "Well," commented Conan, poking gingerly at a peg, "now we know why we couldn't find a stepladder earlier. I was wondering about that—"

Carefully the girl retracted the device, watching in bemusement as it collapsed into itself like a flower blooming in reverse. "So many gadgets… did you take a look at the skates I found earlier? They almost looked as if they had rockets on them—and what about those weird little robot-things?" She held the replica of her old dress up against her body; the garment draped in overlarge folds and dragged across the floor.

"…………….."

"I guess it's a little big, isn't it?" Rin's voice was more than a little wistful as she fingered the soft red material, tugging at a fold here and there. "Not really suitable for a gradeschooler, either; we're supposed to be into Hello Kitty t-shirts and that sort of thing, not fancy dresses-- ?? Oh. Oh, Shinichi, I'm sorry…"

It was his silence that had made her look up; he was watching her, guilt simmering just below the not-expression that he attempted to adopt a half-second later. "I remember you wearing that dress—the real one, I mean. You… looked really nice, Ran." With an effort he smiled. "You always did. Always do _now,_ too." And he ducked his head then, studying some little device or gadget he held in his hands intently, trying to hide the faint burning in his face. "Sorry… I'm not very good at saying things like that, am I? I just... I wish I had had the nerve to say them when I was still like I used to be, instead of—"

"Shinichi, it's okay, really it is." The small girl with Ran's eyes smiled; and if the smile was still a bit wistful, it wasn't _too_ bad. "I shouldn't have said anything. And anyway," she commented a little more cheerfully, "just think of it this way: You've got plenty of time to make up for it, don't you?"

_That_ made one corner of Conan's lips quirk up slightly. "You've been hanging around with Sonoko-kun too much lately."

Rin just tossed her hair and turned away to put the dress back.

Two dusty hours or so later found them both sprawled comfortably on the floor across several pillows pilfered from the family room, reading more of the Phantom Thief's notebooks-- _/Actually,/_ thought Conan, _/that should be 'Phantom THIEVES' notebooks./_ He turned a page in his current volume and raised an eyebrow at what he read. "You know, I can't believe he did that to Interpol—"

"He who, junior or senior?"

"Senior—Kuroba's father." Flipping another page, Conan felt his other eyebrow climb to join the first at the carefully-written margin notes. "They really _were_ a lot alike; would you believe his father somehow managed to steal a famous sapphire pareau out of a briefcase that had been chained to an armed guard's wrist? While the man was fully awake and alert, too… I wish Kuroba Senior had written down how he did it; might come in useful someday."

"…you're planning on taking up a new career? And _you_ got upset when AYUMI-KUN was learning things from the Kaitou Kid?" Her tone teased him, and Conan forgot his supposed dignity enough to make a face in Rin's direction. They both drifted back into a peaceable silence of paper-rustles and occasional comments, interspersed with dusty volume-changes when one or the other felt like it.

"Look at this one, Shinichi-- His father stole an _airplane!"_

"Big deal, you see hijackers doing that in the news all the time—"

"I know, but he disguised himself as the pilot well enough to fool the passengers, flew a six-person Cessna and landed it in the middle of a bean-field in the French countryside, knocked the others unconscious and took their luggage. And he actually returned the luggage the next day with an apology, minus the jewelry inside—"

"………mmph."

Rin looked at him; Conan was visibly sulking. "Pppphhp!"

"……Well, if **_I_** had been there, he wouldn't have gotten away with it……"

"Hmmm." But she was smiling as she got up to pull down another volume. It was one of the newer ones, the first on its row; as she settled down on her cushion and opened the binder, Rin's smile wavered and went serious. "Shinichi? Look at this…"

The flyleaf was a newspaper clipping, faded by a decade's worth of time but carefully taped down onto its page:

_'Internationally-Famous Magician Dies in Stage Accident_

_Tokyo__, NHPress)_

_As an audience of more than three thousand fans watched in horror, the severely burned body of world-famous stage magician Kuroba Toiichi was removed from the smoking ruins of his last performance at the historic Towagawa Theater. One of the Twentieth Century's premier sleight-of-hand artists, Kuroba's death is tentatively being blamed on either equipment failure or possibly a flaw in planning—'_

Rin read bits of the article out loud, her soft voice occasionally faltering. _"'Considered __Japan__'s 'Definitive Artist of Prestidigitation', Kuroba-san had been entertaining audiences throughout the world during a career which favorably compared with legendary magician Harry Houdini's. Well known for his brilliantly inventive acts and innovative displays of magic, Kuroba Toiichi was scheduled to perform over the next few weeks at several well-publicized events in Nagasaki and Hokkaido; his tragic death shocked colleagues, who commented that the magician had always taken great safety precautions with his equipment. Investigators state that they will continue to examine the scene of the incident, but noted that the extent of the damage was considerable and that they have little hope for a quick resolution to the cause of the fire. Kuroba Toiichi is survived by his wife, Hikarui (27), and his son, Kaito (8).'"_

She sighed. "You don't think about him being a little boy, do you? Not when he's leading the police around by their noses or stealing something…. He was only eight years old when he lost his father; that must've been very hard."

"A fire…" Conan was thinking out loud, his brows furrowed together. "That's the easiest way of hiding a homicide behind a possible accident; I wonder how it was ignited? A stage magician pre-plans his performance right down to the last second; there must have been some sort of igniter planted, maybe beneath a table or hidden beneath the stage itself." He stared into space, frowning. "Nakamori had been chasing _that_ version of the Kaitou Kid for a few years by then, hadn't he?"

Rin turned another page. "I think so, but the clippings here aren't about that… They're all about his father. This one says that the damage to the stage was so severe that the fire was written off eventually as 'due to unknown causes'; no-one could find any sort of accelerant... or at least, no-one _reported_ finding one." She bit her lip. "I wonder if any of the investigators were Black Organization agents?" The boy beside her nodded grimly and Rin turned the next page. "There's more. It looks like the police and arson experts kept working on it for a couple of months, but there wasn't a lot of progress. Oh—here's an autopsy report, but…" She looked a little sick. "I don't really want to read that, Shinichi."

"Then don't; I doubt it could tell us anything much, especially if the damage was that severe." Absentmindedly the boy leaned against Rin's shoulder, peering over and down at the notebook. "It was a decade ago, anyway… and we already _know_ he was murdered; the rest is just detail."

"That's a little cold…"

"I know." Conan tugged his glasses off and swiped impatiently at the dusty lenses with his shirt-tail, then gave up the attempt and tucked them into a pocket; it wasn't as if he needed them, anyway. "But I'm a lot more concerned about keeping _us_ alive than I am about trying to solve a murder that happened more than ten years ago. That bomb on Kuroba's door—"

Rin turned her head, brushing her cheek against his hand where it lay on her shoulder. "We need to tell him what we saw. We need to tell him _WHO_ we saw…"

The boy's hand tightened, and he nodded. "What else is in there? More pictures?"

"Mmhmmm. Look at these—"

The photos were a little faded, a mixed batch of this and that—some of them had been taken with a Polaroid or similar, some were from press releases, some were posed and some were obviously not. But they all featured the same subject: Kuroba Toiichi. The man really _did_ look like his son (or vice-versa, actually); you could easily spot the Kaitou Kid's little half-smile in the rakish grin on Kuroba Senior's face as he sat on a sofa beside his laughing wife. There were college pictures with what seemed to be a magic club; there were photos of parties and late-night celebrations and quite a number from Kaito's parent's wedding.

And there were pictures of Kaito himself, as a gape-grinning baby in his mother's arms… a diapered toddler chasing a small dog… a wild-haired, solemn kindergartener on his first day of school..…

…and a giggling boy dressed up in his father's hat and white tuxedo, as overlarge as Mouri Ran's dress had been against Himitsu Rin's small frame. In that picture, the top-hat hid the wide eyes and the pants-legs dragged the floor; but a dove was perched on each shoulder and one clumsily-gloved hand held the Three of Hearts up high for the photographer's benefit.

It was odd, seeing that particular photo. It echoed inside a person's head.

There were other things tucked in beside the photographs too, page after page of them: A pressed carnation, crumbling and brown with age; ticket-stubs to performances; a white dove-feather with a tiny label tied to it that said _'Pikko, 11/27/92';_ other things as well, including several shots of what had to be a very young Nakamori Aoko (scowling). Bits and pieces of lives, all neatly bound up in a volume; it was hard to stop looking, but at the same time it was hard to continue.

Another page—and then Rin firmly closed the book. "The next part's diary entries, I think; and I am _NOT_ reading them. They're personal—more personal than the heist-notes, I mean." At her companion's look, she stuck out her lower lip. "And neither are you, Shinichi, no matter how much you want to."

A little reluctantly, the detective just nodded.

Suddenly the air in the dusty room seemed both a little too cold and a little too heavy with memories to be comfortable. Restlessly Conan closed his volume and replaced it, scrambling to his feet. "Come on, let's go—"

Rin was glancing around at the shadowed corners of the room a little apprehensively; she seemed only too glad to follow. "Kaito-san's probably still asleep; what should we do until he wakes up?"

With one hand on the portrait-doorway, her companion glanced back and grinned as his stomach rumbled. "How does raiding his refrigerator sound?" Without waiting for a reply, Conan climbed through the opening; throwing nervous looks over her shoulder, Rin followed, and they left the hidden room to its memories and its dusty, crowded peace.

* * *

But there was no peace to be found for Kuroba Kaito, not even in dreams.

Curled up like a cat who has been out in the rain and come inside to dry, he slept the sleep of the weary; the strong, thin body lay loose-limbed and still and slow-breathing. Every now and then, though, a finger or toe would _twitch_ like that of a dreaming animal.

Most of the time Kaito liked dreams; he had gotten some of his best ideas for heists from the highly improbable things his admittedly bizarre subconscious threw back at him on occasion. But….. an imaginative person always pays the price for their active mind in the coin of nightmares; ask anyone who has watched a horror movie and can't get to sleep afterwards because of the Thing Under The Bed or the scratching of tree-branches on their window.

Warm sunlight from the foyer windows down the hall touched the edges of his hair like a stroking hand, sending him deeper into dreams. Dreams…..

_They had been talking about 'Yumi-chan, and Kaito had become more and more worried, ready to gnaw the edge of the hotel-room table out of sheer frustration. The green-eyed woman who called herself Akasema Cari had been smiling a complacent, interested little smile, and it WORRIED the magician worse than just about anything. The last thing he wanted was for 'Yumi-chan to get into trouble—_

_Oh, wait. She was already in trouble, wasn't she?_

_"The child. Your apprentice, I believe? Do you know, she's the first child in over seventy years to be affected by the Tear other than by inheritance? She's quite unusual, your little magician… and she has interesting dreams." An affectionate laugh then. "In her dreams, she's 'Ayumi The Astounding', did you know? She performs magic tricks in front of her friends, and I believe she has some sort of reoccurring one about peacocks, but I haven't yet—"_

_Dreams?_

_He had responded almost savagely; it all sounded like a pile of extremely deep bullshit to Kaito, and he was waaaay past being able to deal with that sort of thing. "So far," he had snapped, "all you've told us is that the idiot Gem's exactly what the legends say it is, 'cept it doesn't react to any goddamned comet so far and it used to look different. Is that all? Or is there another bit you haven't gotten to yet, what with all the history lessons?" _

_Aoko had been nearly as tense as Kaito, and Jii hadn't been far behind. But Akasema-san had merely opened her eyes wide at them, her voice low and precise as she went on. "The next bit; listen closely now….. this is how it happened, all those centuries ago….."_

Dreams. Dreams hurt sometimes. Kaito's fingers twitched ever so slightly, trying to hold onto something real. But the dream-voice went on:

_"The woman Kumuda, the one who was shot by the arrow and fell into the river? She did not die, you see. She was found a few hours later by her family's servants, washed up on the banks. To this day I wonder what might have happened if she had ended up on the other shore, the one where her husband Indrajiit's men searched with their weapons ready….. But she did not. She was still breathing when they found her, and within a mere handful of days in her family's care she returned to health. Her children were overjoyed; she shared their relief, but at the same time she wondered: Why had she not died? And what was Kumuda to do now with her life, husbandless and bereft of her two eldest sons?"_

_"The answer was simple enough; she was to remain in hiding. Better, far better, that she be thought of as dead by Indrajiit; his men had seen their remaining children travel down-river towards freedom—let him believe that his wife's bones and the Tear lay in the grasp of the river! That way, at least, he would not come after the ones that were left."_

_"Or so she believed. It took less than a decade to prove her wrong. But by then she had other worries on her mind."_

_Akasema-san sat for a moment, silent, before Aoko stirred herself to ask: "What other worries?"_

_And the woman looked up, green eyes grown curiously blank as they turned towards the slowly lightening window. "Nakamori-san… Aoko-san… Have you ever considered what it would be like to live forever? Never aging, never dying, never falling prey to the failings of old age and infirmity?" The Inspector's daughter merely looked confused, shaking her head. "Most people think of it a time or two; it's a common dream of mankind, immortality. One, I might add, that was NOT tied to the Tear before it came to Kumuda's hands; no, the Tear was supposed to be used for healing and nothing more. But—"_

_"But? But what?" Kaito was leaning forward now, chin resting on his hand, gaze fixed steadily on Akasema's face. "Go on."_

_"—but-- You see, Kumuda had been, oh, seventeen or so when she married her husband; he had been more or less in his mid-twenties. She had been wounded that first time after several years of marriage, around the age of twenty-one or two. So, you see, she had first come under the Tear's influence quite early….. and now it was more than two decades later, and she had not aged at all."_

_The room had been very quiet._

_"Mirrors, you know… they weren't all that common back then; and they were almost always made of silver or tin or bronze, not glass. Not at all accurate, not to show the lines in one's face; a lady of status relied on her maids to clothe her, adorn her, dress her hair, and what loyal servant would comment on her mistress' age? Lines and gray hair happened; one simply expected them and fought back with all the armament that cosmetics and careful clothing would allow…"_

_Kaito's face had not changed expression, but Aoko's had. "Are you saying that she wasn't ANY older? That she still looked the same? That she—"_

_"—still had the appearance of youth; yes, Aoko-san. Yes, I am."_

In the waking world, the young man on the floor-pillow made a sound; it could almost have been a groan, and it very nearly woke him up. But the narrow bars of sunlight from the foyer windows danced across his face in soothing flickers of warmth, and he slid back into the dream…

_"I don't believe you," said Kuroba Kaito flatly. "Nobody lives forever."_

_Akasema-san did not look at him; her eyes were still fixed on the window, watching dawn arrive through the blinds. "Did I say that she would? Did I say that she DID? Forever hasn't happened yet, Kuroba-san… All I've said is that she had not aged. Before they parted, Kumuda had noticed that neither she nor her husband had seemed to weaken with time as their children grew. But this… This was the first time she had actually thought about what that might mean."_

_A rough voice broke in then, one that the others had almost forgotten: "Why don't you believe Kari-san?" That was Pyotr Constanz, leaning negligently against the wall over by the light-switch. His Japanese was heavily accented, almost musical except for the note that signified a quickly-dwindling patience level. "Do you really think she's spend all this time telling you an anyekdot?" He spat the Russian word out; it jangled harshly in their ears. "Why should she waste her time and yours like that?" The grey-haired man snorted, crossing his arms. "She has better things to do, and so do I."_

_Somewhat predictably, Jii (also sitting almost forgotten on the end of one of the room's beds, down by the sleeping Nakamori's toes) bristled in his master's defense. "And why SHOULD we believe her? My apologies, Akasema-san," (and here he turned and bowed slightly to the woman) "but what reason do we have to accept such a, a—what was that phrase you used, Kostya-san?"_

_The other man's face was dark. "'Anyekdot'; a fairy-tale, a lie. Kari-san does NOT lie—"_

_"Except when it suits my purpose…."_

_"—except when it-- Kari, you're not helping!" _

_Akasema Kari merely nodded, eyes still turned towards the window. A small silence fell, and then she went on as if she had never been interrupted. "As I was saying… Kumuda grew no older; she had grown no older for decades, and neither had Indrajiit her husband. Her children, though, they had grown as children do; and it was too soon to see if they had inherited their parents' youthfulness along with the healing—"_

_At a low, rumbling noise from Kaito she broke off, turning to look at him directly. "But you're tired of 'fairy-tales', aren't you, Kaito-san? I thought that relating this story in this way would soften it a little, make it easier to deal with… but perhaps I was wrong." Suddenly the smooth, low voice sounded tired, infinitely tired. "I've told the tale in so many ways and so many times; it's always hard to know how to say it."_

_"Just tell us the truth."_

_"But I am telling you the truth, Kaito-san—every word of it. I haven't spoken a single lie, not even once. I've told you the history of the Tear, what you call the Pandora Gem; and I've told you about how it was discovered that it could change a person. You've had your own experiences with the healing properties of the jewel; if you hadn't, wouldn't you find that aspect of my story impossible to believe?"_

_The thief looked at her, then at Aoko; the Inspector's daughter's face was as troubled as his, but they both nodded._

_"So why not lend a little credence to the rest, then?"_

_"—Because it's impossible, that's why!" burst out Kaito. He clutched at his head. "Aaaaargh… This is NUTS. People just don't—don't-- They grow up, they grow old, they get bunions and they die; that's what happens if you're a normal human being—"_

_He broke off and glared. Nobody said anything._

_After a long, red-faced moment the magician closed his eyes. "Fine. FINE. So nobody in this room is exactly normal except Jii, maybe, okay, maybe not, and Nakamori-san… and I'm not exactly sure about him, considering how much he enjoys chasing me OW!" Aoko had thumped him sharply for that. "…anyway… So what you want us to just blindly accept is that anybody who drinks Pandora-Gem-Tea ends up living forever, right? What a load of—"_

_"Not forever. I believe you said it yourself, Kaito-san: No-one lives forever. If that were so, Kumuda's children would all be alive today." The woman's face drew down a little in sorrow before she remembered herself and regained control. Even then, though, her voice betrayed her sadness. "As I mentioned, it took less than a decade for Kumuda to realize that her husband had not forgotten her children, even if he believed that SHE had died. And his ambitions were still alive, too; he attacked her family's land and over-ran it, driving her family out and killing several of them including her youngest son." Akasema-san sighed. "He was crushed to death by a wall that fell on him when the palace was set aflame… and so now Kumuda had a son and daughter left to her, escaping and traveling with the rest of the survivors until they reached relatives in what is now __Pakistan__. And there she remained for many, many years. Many years, Kaito-san. Very many indeed."_

A quiet patter of feet came down the hall and paused at the entrance of the Family Room as someone looked in. "He looks younger, doesn't he, all curled up like that…?" ventured a girl's soft voice. "Should we wake him up?" On his floor-pillow, the sleeper roused ever so slightly.

There was the clink of ice-cubes and the crinkle of a plastic bag, the kind that cookies come in; a second voice spoke, one that Kaito dimly recognized as familiar. "Let him sleep; even I have to admit he looks like he could use the rest. C'mon, let's find a place to eat where we can see the Nakamoris' place without being spotted—" The footsteps pattered softly away into silence, and he slid back beneath the surface of dreaming like a swimmer beneath waves too big to fight…..

_"…..and Indrajiit? What happened to him?"_

_"He took over Kumuda's family's land, Aoko-san, hers and that of others as well; his empire lasted quite a long time—that is, until an invasion by a Turkish warlord in the year 1525. If you wish, you can find him in the history books under the name of Zahir ud-Din Muhammad, also called Babur." Her eyes hardened briefly, bitter. "That warlord spent many years ruining places that had been peaceful and calm; and the one who succeeded him, Sher Khan, was no better."_

_Aoko looked puzzled again. "I thought—wasn't Sher Khan a character in 'The Jungle Book'?" Her timid question was summarily ignored as Kari continued on._

_"To make a very, very long story short… Indrajiit disappeared in the furor of the invasion, and his two sons went with them; praying that she might now have peace, Kumuda lived on, growing no older, no weaker. And in time her children proved to be much the same, except that they did age…. Slowly. Once they had reached their mid-twenties or so, a decade meant perhaps a years' worth of age to them. And THEIR children were much the same, only perhaps they aged twice as quickly and… so forth—do you see what I mean, Kaito-san, Aoko-san? Each generation carried the abilities, but they grew lesser with, well, I suppose one could call it 'genetic distance.'"_

_Kaito crossed his arms and leaned back, disbelief written large across his mobile face. "Supposing that all this is true, why didn't this Kumuda just use the Gem on her kids and grandkids and whatever? I mean, if she still HAD it and everything, she—"_

_"That was tried, yes. And sometimes it worked; other times, no… and to this day, she does not know why." The woman sighed, staring once again at the window. "And something very important was learned, too, in the procress: If a man or woman who did NOT carry Kumuda's blood in their veins were to attempt to gain agelessness, it would only work if they were no more than perhaps thirty-five or so, which explains why the world is not filled with the ageless elderly, doesn't it? As to why… no-one knows. It's another mystery, one that so far has shown no exceptions. If they were descended from her, no matter how distant the descent, it might work; they would not return to the bloom of youth, but they might stop aging... sometimes."_

_As if pulled by a magnet, every gaze in the room (with the exception of Nakamori's, who merely snored) turned towards the figure of Pyotr Constanz, who gave back a narrow-eyed stare as he inclined his head. "Hmph. My grandfather came from __India__ by way of a merchant-trader who lived in what would now be called __Kazakhstan__. He sowed a few wild oats along the way—particularly in my grandmother, whom he somehow neglected to marry." He snorted. "Any more questions?"_

_Akasema-san coughed. "It's a bit of a delicate subject with Pyotr, I'm afraid," she said apologetically. "Russians are so conservative, you know. We met when I stayed at his family's inn one night quite some time back; my horse kicked over a lantern in the stables, there was a fire, and…" she looked away. "Indirectly it was my fault; I saved who I could. Perhaps if I had tried harder I could have also rescued his wife and daughter, but the fire spread so fast and—"_

_"Enough, Cari; let it go."_

_The look she gave him was both sad and affectionate. "As you wish."_

The sunlight had shifted a little by now; the thin, warm bars from the foyer windows crept down the sleeping young man's chest and side, caressing white lines of scar-tissue that traced the edges of his ribs like the most delicate of filigree. He stretched once, curled up a little tighter around the towel he still clutched; his nails bit into the fabric and then relaxed their hold once more.

_"Do you understand now?" Akasema-san had risen to her feet, more restless than she had been since they had entered the room. "I've done my best to explain as painlessly as possible, but it's not as if it's an easy thing to do." She frowned thoughtfully. "I've occasionally considered writing the whole thing down and simply handing over the manuscript, but… somehow that just seems so very impersonal, doesn't it?" The green-eyed woman nibbled at a fingernail._

_Aoko blinked. "Sort of a 'User's Guide to Immortality'?..... You know, I don't really believe I just asked that question." She rubbed at her temples._

_Akasema-san glanced over her shoulder a little irritably. "Not you TOO, Aoko-san; I DID explain that no-one lives forever, didn't I? Trust me, we die as permanently as anyone else—this is not an episode of that American television show, what was it called, 'Highlander'? Yes, that was it. Those who are affected by the Tear are simply… very well-preserved throughout their lives. But cut our heads off, burn us, smother us, drown us… and we die. We have a certain resistance to poisons and our hearts must actually stop beating entirely for our lives to end, but we die quite, quite permanently, I can promise you." And then she shrugged, turning away again to lean against the wall beside Pyotr. "'Immortality' is a word that I rather dislike, if you really want to know… But if you still have doubts, please do not take my word for it; time will show you the truth, won't it? Just as it's done for Pyotr and I, so will it do for you, Aoko-san, and you, Kaito-san, and for your little apprentice Ayumi as well."_

_"…………….."_

_"—oh, and for your cat too, of course."_

_"……………………………."_

_The woman raised her eyebrows in mock-surprise. "Nothing to say? Tsk; I thought that THAT would certainly bring out an interesting comment or two… or have I said too much?"_

_"……………………………………………."_

_"Ah; too much. Well, I certainly can't blame you at this point for being a bit overwhelmed." She turned, pacing restlessly towards the bed where Nakamori Ginzo lay; there Akasema-san paused, staring down at the Inspector. "He looks a little like Indrajiit, did you know that, Aoko-san? No, of course you wouldn't. But he does, just the tiniest bit. Of course there's no relationship between your family and his—I did check—although you might find it amusing to know that you HAVE recently become acquainted with a distant relative… of mine, not Indrajiit's, through my ninth daughter and my fourth marriage. The connection is very distant, but it does explain your friend's rather remarkable energy and past recuperation from some rather drastic injuries… He even looks like me in coloring, just a little." _

_Who the hell……?? Kaito couldn't take it all in; it was just a little too big. WHAT was the woman talking about now?_

_Akasema-san smiled and ran one hand through her hair a bit wearily. "I was quite charmed when I looked him up in our family records… Neither he nor his family have any idea whatsoever of the relationship; contacts with that branch lapsed long, long ago. But he IS quite a marvelous young man, you know."_

_Kaito had found his voice by then; it cracked ever so slightly as he asked: "Yeah? Who?"_

_"Oh come now, Kaito-san; you're a professional observer of appearances, so to speak. Who else have you met recently who is both a native of __Japan__ and yet has green eyes and dark skin?"_

_"Uh—" His eyes got very large; he closed them tight. "Oh, no. No way, NO freaking way. You have GOT to be kidding me….."_

_"Not at all." Tossing her hair back, Akasema-san looked quite smug. "I was a bit put out at how you trussed the poor boy up and left him on the Conservatory rooftop, but I suppose it was necessary. And it's not as if we've ever been introduced."_

_Aoko's eyes had begun to bug out by now as the penny dropped for her as well. "Are you saying… Wait, HE'S not—"_

_"Oh no, no, not at all; if Hattori-san manages to keep from getting shot by an irate murderer or clubbed to death by that young firebreather of his, I daresay he'll live a very long life… but it will be within normal parameters, more or less." The green-eyed woman sighed. "Too much genetic drift between myself and his generation, I'm afraid."_

_But by now, Kaito's overstressed mind had clamped down like a bulldog onto one particular comment, one that was giving him a very unsettled feeling somewhere in the region of his stomach. "Wait…. What you said a minute ago about Nakamori-keibu. You said that he looked a little like that Indrajiit guy—how would you know? I mean, he's not still actually alive? No freaking WAY… he'd be more than six hundred years old, wouldn't he? So—"_

_Now Akasema-san DID look smug. "Ahhhhhh… do I detect a possible tinge of belief? A little acceptance that, just perhaps, what I've told you all tonight might actually be true?" The thief bit off what was sure to be a rude comment and just looked at her. "Mmm; I do believe so. How gratifying…" Pacing back to her chair again, the woman took her seat again. "Indrajiit? Oh yes, he's still alive and causing a great deal of trouble for a great many people. We'll discuss that topic soon enough. And yes, I've seen him many times; no-one knows him better than I, or so I'd like to think."_

_"???"_

_"After all, I am Kumuda, you know. Or I was; it was all so very, very long ago and so very far away." Green eyes glinting, she smiled a cat's smile at Kaito. "Hadn't you figured THAT out yet, Kaito-san?"_

His heart catching hard in his throat, Kaito awoke.

For a long moment it was nearly impossible to sort out dream from reality. The ceiling above him could have been the one in the hotel; the feeling of incredulous horror _(Oh my God Oh shit Oh no, Aoko, 'Yumi-chan, what'd I do to you? What'd I do to me?)_ ringing through his bones was the same, waking or sleeping. However, a moment later something _very _different registered on Kaito's senses and he found himself on his feet with no memory of deliberately standing up:

A scent. _/Ooooh…../_

It grabbed him right by the hindbrain and dragged him down the hall, swaying just a bit with the aftermath of sleep; it pulled him into the kitchen and straight towards the pan that simmered hypnotically on the stove—

_Whack!_ "Ow!"

The small girl standing on the step-stool regarded him sternly, hands on her hips and oversized apron dragging against her ankles. "You're as bad as Shinichi, Kaito-kun; NO touching until it's ready." From where he sat stirring something in a bowl at the kitchen table, Conan glanced up guiltily; there was a faint red mark on the back of one of his hands that looked remarkably like the spatula-imprint that was currently fading from Kaito's own.

"Uh, right. Sorry." Kaito scrubbed at his hair in embarrassment. "Not really awake yet, I guess. It just smells so _good…_ What're you cooking?"

"Oyakodon. You had pretty much everything I needed in your 'fridge, so… I hope you don't mind. Conan-kun, could you pass me the eggs? --Thanks….."

She began pouring the bowlful over the mixture of chicken, noodles, greens and onions in her pan; it smelled absolutely heavenly, and Kaito swallowed hard as he considered another sneak attack. _/Maybe if I distract her from the right I can come in from the left? …..Nahhh; she has that Take-No-Prisoners look that Mom gets when she's making tempura, and you KNOW what happened the last time you tried to snatch a bite of that—Crispy Fried Kaito Fingers, yum yum. Damn./_ With a heartfelt sigh, he collapsed into a chair and eyed the boy opposite him. "Is she always like this?"

Conan nodded gloomily. "If we don't behave, she makes us cook for ourselves. And you wouldn't _believe_ what can happen if I try to use a microwave, so when it comes to the kitchen I just shut up and behave myself. It's worth it." He raised one eyebrow. "I'd advise doing the same, if I were you."

"Got it." With a large yawn, Kuroba Kaito stretched bare arms above his head; the joints cracked and popped. _/No more aches and pains; thank you for THAT at least, Pandora Gem, though I sure as Hell could do without the rest--/ _The green numbers blinking on the afore-mentioned microwave caught his attention then. "SHIT. It can not be after 6 p.m…."

"Why, is that a problem?" Conan glanced up at him sideways and the thief sighed internally; the not-really-a-kid was doing that _piercing_ look again, the one that made him twitch. It also made him somewhat disinclined to be straightforward; probably a character flaw on his part, but whatever… So instead of answering, Kaito stretched again, this time popping his joints in the other direction.

As expected, the boy winced; people always did. "Doesn't that hurt?" he asked as the magician flexed his elbow the wrong way around. "No, don't tell me—double-jointed, right?"

_"Triple,_ actually." At the stove, Rin rolled her eyes. "'Flexible' is my middle name."

"Really? I thought it was more like—"

"ShinEEEchi…" said Rin in a warning tone of voice, climbing down from her stool and brandishing her spatula threateningly as she juggled a large bowl.

Kaito eyed the approaching food appreciatively and made his move, sneaking a hand in while she was distracted. "No, I can truthfully say that 'Shinichi' is not my middle name—awp!" The spatula had come down on his wrist with a snap that he felt to his elbow. "Jeeze, you're just like Aoko and her mop—okay, okay, okay, I'll be a good boy." Hunching down in his chair with his hands in his lap, the young man did his best Bambi Eyes at Rin. "See? No touchie the cow, I promise."

They both observed him warily. "I'm not sure I should ask this, but… 'No touchie the cow'?" Rin's tone expected answers.

"Well, see, some guys from school went to Hong Kong last Golden Week and they got waited on by this little old Chinese lady with a mean disposition when they went out to dinner there..." Kaito beamed as Rin dished out a modest portion onto his own plate; it smelled better than anything he had ever smelled in his _life._ "Anyway _(gulp)_, the meal was served in this huge ornamental cast-iron pot shaped like a cow _(chew, swallow)_, and when the old biddy put it on the table she warned 'em not to touch it _(smack)_—'Very hot! No touchee the cow!' But one guy just couldn't wait _(gulp)_, so he reached out—and the old lady whopped his hand but good with a menu and shrieked 'NO TOUCHIE THE COW!!!' at the top of her lungs. Scared 'em half to death." He took another large bite. "Man, this is _good,_ Rin-kun…. _(munch, swallow)_….. Uhh—could I have seconds, please? Thanks. 'M glad you _(chew)_ cooked a lot; I'm starving _(gulp)_."

Conan reached for his own 'seconds' before the bowl could completely be emptied. "We can tell. Would your appetite have anything to do with the way that scratch disappeared from your arm earlier?" His voice was casual, but those too-clever eyes flickered up and across his table-mate's face as he asked his question.

The afore-mentioned table-mate grinned a little wryly, swallowing. "You never _do_ let up, do you? Guess that's how you survive, what with being a shrimp and all….. And yeah, I guess so _(crunch)_. I've been eating like a horse since… for a while now. –Look, I said I'd tell you two about it while I walked you home, right? Right. So, not to be rude or anything, but can we drop it 'til then?" Kaito took another bite.

Ignoring the last few sentences, the boy took another bite himself. "No, I never let up, mostly because you're so damned slippery; I guess that's how _you_ survive, though, isn't it?" Kaito shot him a rueful look in answer, and the three at the table ate in silence for a few moments. Finally, Conan leaned back in his chair and regarded the magician steadily. "Good enough; you can tell us on the way back. And speaking of which, I don't suppose you'd happen to know a route that would bypass all that police scrutiny, would you? When Rin and I looked out the window earlier, I saw Shiratori-san talking with a couple of other officers—"

"Oh, that guy I posed as during the Memory Egg thing?"

"—right, him—and I'd rather not have to explain why Rin and I are sneaking through back alleyways just now." The young detective looked slightly pained. "Shiratori-san's an intelligent man, but a little inflexible….. Rin, is there any more—oh." The young girl/young woman was just then in the process of serving herself the very last of the oyakodon; she stuck out her tongue at him and took a slow bite while the two males at the table watched wistfully. "Errr, never mind."

She wiped her lips with a paper napkin. "You'd think that, considering how much you love to eat, you'd learn to cook by now. You're going to look like Genta-kun if you don't watch it, Shinichi."

"Hey, c'mon, Ran, I _saw_ you putting away those adzuki-buns Thursday night at Ayumi-kun's—you ate twice as many as me! Just because you're a skinny litte girl again doesn't mean you can pig out any more than _I _can—"

It was more than a touch weird, sitting there in his kitchen so comfortably with two people whom he had only been able to consider as extremely dangerous adversaries very recently (well, _Kudo_ had been, at least); Kaito just settled down to watch as they wrangled. The bickering (if you could call it that; he could think of other names that suited it better) wound down after a minute, and Conan looked at his grin. "What?"

"Oh, nothing." He leaned back in his chair, balancing on two legs. "'Cept that you two had better get married some day—you sound sort of like I remember my mom and dad sounding when I was little… They squabbled like that too." Sputter, sputter; Kaito grinned at the resulting fireworks and leaned back even further, hands clasped behind his head. "You both make such a big, shiny target, y'know; how can I resist?" he teased; it felt good.

Red-faced, Conan shot him the magician surly look that would have knocked him off his chair had it been attached to anything physical. "Ha ha. Are jokes all you came here for, or did you have an actual goal in mind tonight?"

The magician sobered instantly, allowing his chair to settle back onto the floor. "No… I mean yes. I mean…." His lips thinned a little as he glanced towards the doorway, down the hall and towards a certain portrait hanging there. "There _IS_ something I need to do here, something important... and then a few somethings elsewhere later on before I leave. When I'm done here, I'll walk you both home."

"—and you'll explain then? You _did_ say that you would—" Rin pushed her hair back, her embarrassed blush fading; she wasn't her father's daughter for nothing, and she was obviously dying of curiosity.

"Explain? Yeah…" Kaito gave them both a very dubious, sidelong glance. "Better plan on setting your credibility meters to 'high', though; it's gonna be one hell of an explanation."

"Oh?" Conan had that stubborn look to his face again, the one that refused absolutely to _budge,_ no matter what.

"Yeah." And beyond that, the thief refused to say.

* * *

It didn't take very long for Kaito to gather what he needed together; a little while upstairs in his room, a half-hour or so in his mother's room. After that was done he calmly went around the house, checking locks on doors and windows. At one point he eased out the back door and very gently nudged the door on the dove-cote open a half-meter or so; the sleeping birds paid little attention beyond a sleepy chirp or two, and with a sigh the young man slipped back into the house. "You're letting them go?" asked Rin, watching from the kitchen door.

"They've always been free to come or go," the magician answered absently; a stray feather had attached itself to his shirt, and he smoothed it between two fingers before tucking it into a pocket. "I usually keep the door open a little anyway, but since I don't know how long I'm gonna be gone this time…" By his feet, Spot sniffed sulkily at the doorjamb and expressed his feline displeasure at not being allowed out to play with the doves by a meaningful flip of his tail.

Sharp eyes followed Kaito's restless movements. "So… you're planning for a—siege? An invasion? What?"

Shrug. "A little of both, maybe, Rin-kun. I'm going off to join Aoko; we've got a few things to deal with that I didn't expect—nothing to do with this mess, just… personal matters, mostly. Time to let stuff here simmer for a bit while Nakamori plays with his prisoners; time to see what he can find out, and I don't think he'll be stupid enough to put himself on the line again just yet. Should be safe enough… I hope." The door was locked, and the thief ran careful fingers up the edge of a shelf on the wall to one side. "Now _where_ was that--? Oh yeah, here we go." _Click._ Something popped briefly, and a glitter of well-hidden glass twinkled at the join between shelf and wall.

"A hidden camera?"

"Yeah. Home security and all that—you never know when somebody's gonna try to break in..."

The not-a-little-girl had the grace to blush; it was interesting, seeing Mouri Ran's expressions on somebody who barely came past his waist. "Very funny. What's next, then?"

Kaito did not answer; stalling for time, he fidgeted with the camera's tiny controls. "Where's Conan-kun?" Her partner in crime (so to speak) had quietly slipped away while his host had been making his rounds. Rin's uncomfortable pause gave an easy answer. "Back in my dad's room, huh? Not surprised… but, uh, Rin-kun? Could I ask a favor from you?" Avoiding her raised eyebrows, Kaito continued to fiddle with the controls; miniscule clicks were produces as the lens sparkled, changing angles ever so slightly. "Upstairs, um, well… There's something I was sort of hoping you'd take with you, 'cause _I_ sure as hell can't…"

He carefully avoided looking towards her soft giggle. "Those goldfish you got from Ayumi-chan; I wondered how long it would take you to get around to them."

"Um. Yeah." Fidget, fidget; the lens winked brightly as it was adjusted yet again.

"…………"

"Please? Rin-kun, I'm begging you…" Kaito turned the full effect of sad, sad Kuroba Bambi-Eyes on the girl. "I can't just _leave_ 'em here, but there's no way I can take them with me either. And if I flush them down the toilet, Aoko'll skin me, tan the skin, and make it into a cushion for her dad's office chair. _Pleeeeeeeease?"_

Harder hearts had been melted by those eyes; Rin held out for a few seconds but caved eventually. "Okay… but you have to go get them for me." At his horrified look she smiled innocently. "What's wrong? I saw the fishbowl up on the bathroom windowsill when I used the upstairs bathroom earlier; it's way out of a gradeschooler's reach. So you'll just have to get them down and put them in a plastic bag or something for me."

The thief groaned theatrically. "…..You're enjoying this, aren't you? You never really DID forgive me for impersonating you aboard the _Queen Elizabeth."_ Rin merely smiled. "Fine, fine, see if _I_ ever trust anybody shorter than shoulder-height again… Gather everything you two brought with you and meet me in my dad's room; we're about ready to leave. Grab Spot too, would you please? Thanks. I think." With a heavy sigh, the magician tromped back into the kitchen to collect several zip-loc baggies, elbow-length oven-mitts and a large pair of tongs.

_

* * *

/Aaaargh----/_

Conan was having difficulties.

He had known good and well that he probably shouldn't have been poking around in Kuroba's 'lair' without explicit permission, but the temptation had just been irresistible. The sheer knowledge that the place even existed had been like an itch beneath the detective's skin-- how many people got to rifle through a world-class Phantom Thief's gadgets, notes and heist paraphernalia? Okay, granted, the things in the room were used solely and expressly for the purpose of committing crimes, but the former Kudo Shinichi just couldn't help himself: they were _interesting, _dammit, and in a great many undeniable ways were almost works of artSo…..

He had snooped. What else? However, things hadn't gone quite as planned.

First there had been the attempt to reach some of the more interesting notebooks in the hidden room by using the extendable ladder, which only went to prove that Phantom Thieves have a _reason_ for their reputation as skilled acrobats. It had been a lot harder than it looked.

Sometimes he really, _really_ hated being small.

And then there had been his stab at trying to open the sealed trap-door at the top of the staircase; there were only eight steps, but they had to lead somewhere—the attic? A storage space? What kind of things did a Phantom Thief keep in his attic? However, prying with his small hands and several borrowed tools had resulted in A) a lot of dust in Conan's face, B) splinters, and C) frustration, since the damned thing seemed to be epoxied shut. He gave it up as a bad job, shrugging and deciding that Never Mind, It Probably Wouldn't Have Been Interesting Anyway.

Probably.

Dammit.

But _then_ he had just HAD to go digging in one of the boxes of random junk beneath the largest workbench… Intriguing gadgets and gizmos and peculiar electronic devices had been crammed in haphazardly with notes, drawings and diagrams, and so he had figured (with that logical mind of his, of which he had always been so proud) that rooting around in there would be okay…..

Pride goeth before a fall. Or in this case, the click of an unlabeled switch and the pressing of a button did…..

**_SPLORTT!!!_**

"Wha— AAAGH!!!"

He was still picking sticky gobbets of whatever-the-_HELL_-it-was from his shirt, hands, face and hair when the portrait silently opened to allow Rin's small figure to clamber through. Hefting both of their backpacks and nearly overbalancing, the faux gradeschooler thumped them onto the floor beside the entrance and brushed a straggle of hair from her eyes. "Shinichi, could you—WHAT did you do to yourself?!?"

Conan said nothing, just looked up glumly and continued trying to pull hardening, gooey blobs of foam off of basically everywhere. His lower lip stuck out, and in that moment he looked far more like the child that his appearance conveyed than the young man that he actually was. After a moment he reluctantly held up one hand; the gizmo he had tried to use clung tightly to his palm, glued into place.

"…you _could_ try helping instead of just laughing at me, you know…" he said reproachfully a moment later. The device was yanked at several times with his free hand. "Dammit—OW! There." Several more globs came off, not without removing a bit of skin at the same time. "What's IN this stuff? It nearly glued me to the floor! Aaargh—"

"It'll come off with tomato juice."

With a perfectly sympathetic face, Kuroba watched from the doorway. "Y'know, the same stuff you use if you're hit by one of those skunks they have in America: tomato juice. Don't ask me why, but it'll dissolve that goo and nothing else will; and no, I /didn't/ come up with it—it's one of my dad's inventions. I've been playing around with the idea for a while now, y'know, to slow down pursuit and so forth… Whatcha think?" The _look_ that he received in response was answer enough, and a grin broke through the mock-sympathy. "Hey, Tantei-san, that's what you get for poking your long nose into boxes. Don't blame me; I did the same thing when I found that little toy." From his place on the workbench, Spot mrowed derisively.

Rin had gotten over her fits of the giggles by now and was attempting to help remove the rapidly-hardening mess. "I don't suppose you have any tomato juice, do you?" she asked hopefully. "It's in his hair—"

"Nope; sorry. Used it all up on myself last time… but I do have scissors," Kuroba offered, producing a pair out of nowhere.

Against a background of childish-voiced cursing and snipping sounds, the son of Kuroba Toiichi busied himself about the shelves and racks, pulling an odd assortment of this and that without a word. Conan watched over Rin's shoulder, wincing as his hair was occasionally pulled. _/Two full outfits, one cape, three hats—he must be hard on hats, good thing they flatten down like that-- Sonic grenades, those black things he labeled 'Nakamori Specials', flash-grenades, extra packs of cards for his gun… and things I don't recognize at all. Hell, I don't recognize nine-tenths of the things he's pulling… What do little purple spheres do? Or black-and-red darts with smiley-faces drawn on the front of them? Or those dark blue capsules with lightning-bolts on them? --and THAT looks like spare parts for his glider and maybe a repair-kit… I wish I had more time in here to look around. Oh well; we broke in once, we can do it again— listen to me, I sound like Kuroba. Better watch that, Kudo./ _Bits of hair and hardened goo snowed down into his lap, rather more than he would have expected to see. "Uhh—Ran-kun? What're you doing? Ran?"

"Just trimming things… You needed a haircut." _Snip, snip._

"Ran, do you remember when we were in fifth grade and you attempted to give me a haircut then? I had to wear a hat for three whole weeks—"

_Snip, snip._ "You worry too much, Shinichi—_oops._ Um………. I, uh………. Just let me neaten up this area and I'll be done." With a feeling of deep foreboding (and, regretfully, déjà vu), Conan hunched his shoulders up around his ears and concentrated on picking off the rest of the goop from his hands and clothing and forbore asking about the 'oops' comment; he didn't really want to know, since it was too late anyway. "There, almost finished... and it looks, um, FINE. Really it does."

"……………"

"Before you get too far into playing Beauty Parlor, Rin-kun--?" Kuroba had reached back through the portrait-entrance for a second, retrieving a carefully-tied brown paper bag; it seemed to have something else inside of it—another bag?—and he handled it with extreme care and an expression of repugnance, offering it to the girl. "Here; _take_ them." The teenager shuddered. "And good riddance."

Rin giggled as she accepted the bag; it sloshed. "Fine… Now, hold still, Shinichi, and let me finish with your hair." Conan rolled his eyes silently and allowed her to continued snipping; it seemed less dangerous than protesting.

In the meantime, Kuroba quickly and quietly gathered up the rest of his gear; done, he stood looking around the small, crowded room, an odd expression on his sharp features. It could have been nostalgia, or regret; it could also have been sorrow… but it flickered away into something else before Conan could be sure. "So, what's next?" asked the boy, brushing away strands of hair from his eyes (and attempting to ignore just _how much_ fell onto the floor).

"What's next? You two keep asking that." Kuroba glanced down at the two of them, that non-expression still on his face. "'Closure', I guess you could call it; it's as good a word as any. Oh, hang on a sec… can't leave _this_ behind." _'This'_ seemed to be the weird mechanism that Rin had taken so much to: the clock, the one that did not chime but instead sent a tiny Kaitou Kid flying out in a wavering circle upon the hour. Without a word Kuroba reached out and manipulated a few switches and levers on the device's back; it obliged by folding gently into itself as he pressed down on the top, the metallic track withdrawing with a miniscule whirr until the entire thing had flattened into a square of wood no thicker than, say, a deck of cards with sharp metal inserts in them.

"Now _that's _a good trick," Kuroba said softly. "Dad did nice work." Conan said nothing, but nodded as the clock was stowed carefully away in the heavy pack that the young magician had with him.

'Packs', actually… one very big, one fairly small; only now did the detective really pay attention. Kuroba had changed to basic worn jeans, sneakers and a dark sweater; he hefted the two like they were as heavy as they looked. "How're you going to carry all that? You'll need at least a suitcase; a backpack's not up to it. Won't you be a little conspicuous?"

But the other merely shrugged. "You'll see. There's other ways of transporting baggage than on a person's back, even for me." Kuroba raised one eye with an ironic quirk of his lips. "Y'know, you seem awfully curious about my methods for somebody who's not chasing me any more… Planning on going into the business when you grow up, Conan-kun?"

Now _THAT_ sort of remark was expressly designed to make him blow his top; he refused to rise to the bait. "You never know," Conan answered mildly, drawing a very odd look from Rin. "Are we ready to go?"

Kuroba's amused look melted like frost on warm pavement, bringing back that non-expression of his. It was disturbing; even the Poker Face was easier to deal with. "I suppose we are. I left a phone-message in my mom's voice with the neighbor-kid who's been looking after Spot and my doves that they were being taken care of by a classmate and not to bother; I've got all my gear together, or as much as I can deal with; and the house is locked up tight… except for the last bit that I have to do from here."

The boy shouldered his own pack and ran one hand across his freshly-cropped hair; it felt more than a little odd, but he could deal with that later. He winced as Spot used his shoulder as a launching-pad, settling on top of Rin's pack with a strong air of _Carry Me, Puny Mortal;_ she obliged. "And what's that?"

A shrug. "Well, first off, follow me." Kuroba got a good grip on both his packs and, somewhat to his companion's surprise, began climbing the abbreviated staircase. Conan's eyes widened slightly. _/Ah; there must've been a hidden lock or something, it just LOOKED like it was epoxied shut. He's going to open the_--/

_/--wait-- Okay, I didn't expect THAT./_ Pausing about halfway up the steps, the magician had simply reached in front of him, caught the edge of a tread, and with magnificent nonchalance raised up the stepped flooring as if it were an ordinary door. The entire surface of the remaining stairs had simply opened up, revealing a narrow gap, through which Kuroba began wedging his packs as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

At his guests' expressions, he looked over one shoulder innocently. "What? You didn't think we were going through the attic, did you? It's full of dust and wiring and probably spiders… Of course, if you insist, we can—"

"Never mind," said Rin hastily, passing her pack up to the magician with Spot balancing neatly on top; she hated spiders. Conan shrugged as well and passed his along too.

_/Whatever…/_

Ushering the two smaller figures ahead of him after the packs (the space was as narrow as it looked and opened into a cement-walled corridor that sloped sharply downwards), Kuroba paused before stepping through himself. "Kudo? Rin-kun?" he said softly, "You might want to pay attention here…"

_/NOW what's he doing?/_ Kuroba was busy with some sort of set of buttons; he had noticed them earlier, on the ceiling overhead next to the seam of the 'hatch'—ten of them, very small, inset into the wood_H_

. He seemed to be pressing some sort of complicated pattern, counting beneath his breath for a second, and then repeating it. What--?

Overhead and across the room, there was the faintest groan of machinery; something was beginning.

"…..Kuroba-kun?" Rin was peering over Conan's head with her scant inch or two of extra height, a nervous look in her eyes. "What's happening?"

"Closure," said the thief quietly.

The sounds of gears and of things _moving_ in the walls was getting louder, which was odd; of necessity, this room had to stay hidden, didn't it? Therefore, strange noises and so forth would be verboten normally… so why the crankings and whirrs? And a hissing, too, growing louder all the time, and that _smell…_ It was beginning to pervade the room: acrid, chemical, strong enough to sting the eyes and make the nose burn. Spot took one horrified sniff and burrowed into Rin's backpack, tail bushing frantically.

"My dad set this up a long time ago," said Kuroba conversationally, almost casually; only the way his fists tightened on the stair-railing gave his voice the lie. "Rin-kun, you called it when you asked me earlier if I was planning on holding out against a siege or an invasion. See… Dad always figured on this room as being his weak point; if it existed, somebody could find it. So he had to set up a way to seal it off, and that's what's happening now. You hear those noises?" Sharp, restless eyes scanned the room. "The walls around this room are hollow, but they won't be for long; that's the sound of a hell of a lot of insulation-foam being dumped in the spaces from tanks that've been ready and waiting for a long time. I had to do a little maintenance on 'em when I inherited the job, but not that much—my dad knew his stuff. It's not exactly ordinary foam, either… when it finishes hardening, this place'll be sealed up like a fly in a chunk of amber. All the entrances, all the surrounding walls, every door to every tunnel leading from this place… shut tight. And it'll take a lot more than tomato-juice to get it open again."

"Like I said….. 'closure.'" Conan coughed; the fumes were getting stronger. Kuroba wiped at his face with his sleeve. "Damned stink's making my eyes burn," he muttered, and closed the staircase door.

At once a panel slid shut across the opening; Conan and Rin looked silently at each other as the hissing of foam being extruded began just beyond it. _/So even that passage is being sealed—Kuroba really IS burning his bridges behind him. He can't get back in… and neither can anybody else./_

_/Including me, of course….. Damn./_

"Come on," said the thief quietly, gathering up his packs and heading off through the narrow, dusty tunnel, flicking on a lightswitch as he went; "We've got a lot of walking to do."

And so they walked. Behind them, the hissing gradually died into silence.

At one point, just before leaving the original tunnel (still sloping downwards and occasionally dripping with condensation), Kuroba took a bit of chalk from where it lay on the floor and drew a small mark on one wall; it joined many others, marching across the rough concrete in their dozens. The thief made no explanation at first, but at their questioning looks he shrugged. "Just a habit," he said briefly, laying down the chalk in its place and picking up his packs again with an effort. They trudged on.

The rough, grey concrete had become brick; and the brick had become _older_ brick, reddish and a bit crumbly. Water pooled here and there on the floor, and the lighting (provided by what looked to be a jury-rigged set of wiring and bare bulbs) went dim and sparse, though bright enough to be useable. It was cold down there, however far down they had gone; uneasily Conan tried to figure it out and could not—the slope had been very gradual, though, so they could not have gone all that deep. Where did tunnels like this come from, anyway? The first part, that could have been put in by the previous Kid, but this--? The bricks had the look of something pre-war. Maintenance tunnels of some sort, maybe?

The pavement and walls changed periodically, going from brick to mortared blocks and back to concrete; the floor leveled out and then began to slope back up. Occasionally a dark opening would break up the monotony of the blank walls; these often wafted gusts of stale, dank air and Conan was not sorry that they did not take any of the side-tunnels. He had lost his taste for dark, enclosed areas a few months earlier during the whole locked-in-a-filing-cabinet Ojiwa incident…

But Rin was holding his hand by now, and that made things better. Her small fingers were damp and warm in his and she brushed against him as they walked; it would almost have been nice if circumstances had been different.

Of course, they'd have to have been _really_ different; i.e., ten years' worth of different. Being someplace other than in a dank tunnel underground would have been an improvement too.

At last they came to a door, heavy steel with no less than three locks on it; both Conan and Rin breathed simultaneous sighs of relief as their escort did something quick and intricate to the keyholes _(/Does he EVER carry keys?/_ wondered Conan) and opened the thing—to show an even darker corridor beyond, one with shallow steps. Pipes ran along the walls, and there was a thin sound of running water from below the uneven concrete underfoot. From his backpack-perch Spot's ears twitched as something scurried across a wall several meters in, and Rin made a little sound beneath her breath; it might have been a whimper. She _really_ didn't like places like this…

"Stay to the right," said Kuroba briefly, following suite. Without explanation, the thief closed the door behind them and picked up his packs again; and without a word they followed.

The silence was oppressive, and the shallow steps made their short legs stumble. Conan wiped a bead of condensation off his neck with his free hand, concentrating on his footing and on the silent presence that walked soundlessly beside them; in the unsteady light, Kuroba's face was pale and a little drawn as the passage began to spiral a little steeper, becoming a true staircase.

Around and around they went, and around and around the young detective's thoughts ran. _/If this is the kind of traveling you have to do on a regular basis as a Phantom Thief, I'll pass. Makes sense, though; he can't fly all the time, it's too visible, and disguises are only good until you make a mistake. The Kid—Kuroba—is good, unbelievably good; but nobody's perfect. I can understand why he'd—/_

"Hey, Kudo, going somewhere without us?"

Abruptly yanked to a halt by Rin's hand, Conan realized that he had nearly walked into thin, open air-- the curved right-hand wall he had been following had simply ended in a drop, while Kuroba had turned left into a gap of blackness. "Erk. Sorry," muttered Conan, irritated with his own lack of attention. "Aren't there any lights?"

The pale face turned back towards him, and he could have sworn that the eyes were glittering. "Nope; you'll just have to trust me. Here—" Kuroba pulled something thin and fluttery from one pocket; after a moment of squinting at the many shades of muted color that made up the object, the boy realized that it seemed to be a rainbow string of knotted silk scarves. "Both of you hang onto this and keep close; we'll be stopping for a break up ahead."

"And that explanation?" Rin's voice might have sounded rather timid and little-girl, but apparently she hadn't forgotten a thing.

"Yeah." Those oddly bright eyes were intent. "Said I'd tell you, didn't I? You ought to know by now that I keep my promises." The words might have been meant to be comforting, but somehow they just _weren't_. Kuroba turned away from the light to enter the blackness with the two of them following close behind, linked by silk.

'Up ahead' wasn't all that far, which was good: a division in the tunnel maybe three hundred meters along, almost more felt than seen. The air around them gusted past, breathed fetidly out of the walls themselves; from a barred grating far above thin beams of diffused light leaked in alongside the distant sounds of traffic. "Where are we?" asked Conan, sinking down with a grateful sigh onto one of the broken cinderblocks that had made footing so difficult for the last twenty meters or so.

Kuroba was still turned away, his face raised towards the faint glow; maybe he was glad of the light too. "Hm? This used to be an old sewer a long time ago, before the war; things got blown up here and there and they put in new piping and basically forgot these were ever here." He leaned over, opening his smaller pack and rummaging through for something. "Lots of the tunnels I use are pre-war, places that got damaged and that were never repaired; it was easier most times to just build newer replacements and wall off the old ones, 'specially if they leaked….. I don't know where my dad got hold of the maps for 'em, but they were one of the first things I found in his old room when I inherited the job."

Three cans of soda came out of the pack; still poking around, Kuroba sat back on another chunk of concrete and looked up. "Rin-kun, d'you want a Coke or a—what? What's wrong?"

Rin had dropped her own pack with a thud (eliciting a yowl from her offended passenger) and Conan was on his feet and backing towards her. The thief opposite them blinked in bewilderment. "What? You two look like you've seen a—"

**_"—oh._** Right…. I forgot." He scratched his head sheepishly. "The eye thing….."

The former Kudo Shinichi became aware that he was clutching Rin's hand (or that she was clutching his) and was a hair away from shaking. Normal human beings did _not_ have eyes that glowed in the dark like a cat's. Normal humans did _not….. _and therefore, of course, Kuroba was not a normal human being at all—

"You, you look like—" That was Rin, fighting to keep her voice steady; poor Rin. Her hand was really gripping his hard. "—do they _hurt?_ Your eyes weren't, weren't always like this, were they? I remember, y-you looked at Ayumi-kun's and you s-said—"

"Um. Yeah." Kuroba actually sounded uncomfortable; he ducked his head a little, shuttering the blue glows behind their lids. Impossible eyes, not normal at all----but they had known that anyway, hadn't he? Not a normal human being; there had been that unbelievable healing… Conan shook his head hard. _/**Deal** with it, Kudo, you already knew something weird was going on. This is the Kaitou Kid, remember? And he SAID to 'set our credibility meters to high'… so stop acting like an eight-year-old and deal with it./ _He took a deep breath. "Hey… Rin? Soda?"

"W-what?" She sounded totally distracted; Kuroba just sat there, face a little averted, cans of soda in his lap.

"The Coke'll be okay, right?" Taking a long breath, the boy dropped her hand and reached through the darkness for a can. Kuroba flicked him a brief, glittering glance of approval before looking away again. "Here… sit down and drink this." He touched her cheek gently, tipping up her face to his; in the shadows he could barely see anything other than the whites of her own wide, startled eyes. Carefully he sat down next to her, a comforting presence in the dark. "Rin-kun… Ran. Ran, shhh, it's no big deal… it's just one more trick. Just another magic trick, only a little realer than most of them." Conan attempted a smile, not sure if he was doing any good or not. "Just another magic trick—"

"But, but—" Behind them, Spot made a derisive sound.

"It's _okay,_ Rin-kun," said Kuroba in a subdued voice; if it had been any softer, it might almost have been a plea. "I know it looks sort of freaky… My eyes scared me the first time I saw 'em in a mirror. But they're just, well, _eyes._ If it'll make you feel better I won't look at you until we're in better light; they only do this in the dark. I'd use a flashlight, but I don't want anybody seeing it from up above… Um. Should I just shut up, maybe? Aoko'd be whacking me with a mop by now if she was here."

"N-no…" She was getting her nerve back now; the small hands clutched and twisted around the soda can that she had accepted. Mouri Ran could deal with violence, crime-scenes and threats to her loved ones; it was just anything that approached the supernatural (or looked like it, which this damn well did) that she had trouble handling. "It's… You're still—I mean, you—"

Still looking away, Kuroba chuckled; you could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke. "You're cute when you're flustered, Rin-kun, y'know that?" She laughed nervously back. "But… you're not _really_ scared of me, are you?" the thief wheedled, now sounding unutterably sad; there was a sniffle in the dimness. "I mean, I can understand it if you are, but… it'd really be kind of depressing, thinking I scared the beejeezus out of people…" Another sniffle, somewhat louder. "But if you're _really_ scared of me, I guess I could just sort of keep my face averted or something…"

Conan rolled his eyes. _/And THAT sentence had a quaver at the end; verbally sparring with the Kid is like pitting a—well, a gradeschooler against an armored tank. Or a giant weasel, come to think of it; Ran doesn't stand a chance./_

"Oh, no, no!! It's okay! I mean, they're s-sort of _pretty_ in a way—" Almost dropping her soda, the small girl hurriedly got up and took a few steps towards the crestfallen-looking thief. One bright blue eye peered up at her through the shaggy tumble of hair; she halted, but rallied a moment later. "They, they look sort of like a special effect or something. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings—"

Sniffle. "It's okay."

"They just… sort of startled me, that's all." She gave him a wavering smile and took a drink from her Coke. "I'm not very good with, well, spooky things. I react to them a little like you do to fish…"

"Urgh. _Right._ Got it." Kuroba looked up at her involuntarily, but now he was smiling and his eyes, though still unnerving, weren't that bad. Weird, yes, but… not that bad; just weird. _/So what else is new?/ _Conan relaxed and opened his own soda while Kuroba dug back into his pack for almond cookies and a few other things he had brought along.

Stress is dehydrating. Sugar helps….. and so does tunafish, if you're a feline. To each their own.

"Can you actually see in the dark?" asked Conan curiously after a few crunch-filled minutes had gone by. "I remember when you stopped by for your little 'chat'…… You read something I had hanging on my wall, and I wondered about it at the time. Can you?"

Kuroba had his mouth full; he nodded briefly, more of a silhouette than anything else, and swallowed. "Mmhm. Remember how I told you 'bout finally finding the Pandora Gem when I snatched that emerald from the University museum?" He took a gulp of soda. "To make a really, _really_ long story short, it looks like we've all gained a few side-effects from dealing with it on the night I got shot—"

--and suddenly Conan's mouth was dry. "'We'?" he asked carefully. Rin stopped chewing.

The thief extracted another handful of almond cookies from the package and passed them around. "Yeah. Me, Aoko and… 'Yumi-chan. And even that damned kitten. I figured you'd already worked that out." And they _had,_ more or less, but hearing it actually being said out loud was a little hard on the nerves. "We didn't realize it at first, and I'm still short on the details; 'Yumi-chan doesn't know that anything's happened yet, far as I know. Pocky, anybody?"

They sat in comparative silence for a few more minutes, thinking and eating in the dark. Kuroba still seemed to be a little shy of looking directly at either Conan or Rin, which was—well, not exactly strange (it was ALL strange), but just unlike him; he was usually such a performer. _/Then again,/_ considered the boy as he brushed unseen crumbs from his shirt, _/if I suddenly ended up with something as weird—and identifiable, wonder if he's thought of that?—as the way his eyes are now, I might be a little shy myself. I remember how I felt right after I got shrunk… like a freak; like people were going to figure it all out and put me into a sideshow somewhere./_ The former Kudo Shinichi winced internally at a wholly unwilling flare of sympathy and recognition; _/It was a lot easier when he was just somebody I wanted to see behind bars,/_ he grumbled to himself.

At last the final cookie had been consumed and a second round of sodas were in the process of being opened, and Kuroba settled himself as comfortably as possible against the wall behind him. "Are you two ready for that explanation now? I mean, if you'd prefer to skip it….." At their expressions he sighed, and his eerily reflective eyes caught the light again as he rolled them; Spot's flashed in mirror-image as the kitten dug back into Rin's pack and settled for a nap. "Yeah, yeah. Now, where do I start? --Ah; got it….. I don't s'pose either of you know anything about India, do you?"

_India_

"Um… curry? Rudyard Kipling? Cobras?" hazarded Rin.

"There's an extensive black market in opium and other drugs in India," remarked Conan, looking thoughtful. "Why India, though? Is it relevant?"

The thief's white teeth gleamed briefly below the blue glimmers of his eyes, a bit like the Cheshire Cat after it had become mostly smile and less cat. "Depends on what you think of as 'relevant.' We could talk about curry and cobras and Kipling, or I could explain how those Black Org bastards got their start….."

_NOW_ he had their attention. "…Talk."

"Are you sure? Curry's a nice subject, and I _like_ Kipling."

"_TALK, _Kuroba, or so help me I'll—"

That smile flashed again; only this time it had an edge to it. "Good enough; let's start with a history lesson." He took a deep, deep breath. "Once upon a time there was this place in India called the Langah Kingdom of Multan….."

_

* * *

/Hoo boy. Intense much, Kudo? Not that I blame you, but it was a lot easier before when you were just my enemy and I didn't have to explain anything. Even Nakamori isn't this focused./ Kaito surreptitiously wiped away a bead of sweat—_

--and talked. And talked, and talked, and _talked._

He was aware (even if they weren't) of Kudo and Rin-kun's expressions; they ranged from simple curiosity to extreme doubtfulness, if not pure disbelief. Kudo was doing that storing-things-away look a lot, just like he had when they had talked the last few times; that usually meant trouble for somebody later on.

_/I just hope it isn't me. I've got enough on my plate, thanks very much./_ Even now, talking about the Gem was enough to bring back all the heartache and pain he had felt on the way back to Tokyo—

_/--but I can't deal with that now. Angst later./_

Kaito had managed to skim over the whole 'origin of the Pandora Gem/Tear/bane of his existence' and gone right into its effects—the whole healing and sensory amplification thing, not to mention the eyes. He had _also_ managed to touch on Akasema Kari and Pyotr Konstanz's identities fairly lightly, doing his best not to clue his audience in on just exactly who they were…

"This Akasema-san—just who _is_ she, anyway? What's her connection to the Black Organization?" Conan was sitting forward, eyes fixed on his.

_/…and I should have known better. Get on with it, Thief Boy. Lay out your cards./_ "…Um… well, actually…" he hedged, wilting slightly under the twin stares. "I can tell you who she claims to be, but I don't have any actual proof. Not as such." And damn Kudo for being such a pain in the ass, anyway; Kaito sighed and capitulated. "She _says_ that she's, uh… Kumuda. You know," he explained helpfully, "the woman who got shot with all the arrows? Five or six hundred years ago, nearly? _That_ Kumuda."

Silence.

_/………….Wow. I didn't think ANYBODY could look THAT skeptical. You'd think I was trying to sell them life insurance./ _"Look," he said hurriedly, "I didn't say that **I** believed her, did I?" Kaito put on his best Indignant Face, forgetting that they couldn't see him in the darkness. "You wanted an explanation, you're getting one. And anyway, who cares? What's important is what she told me next—"

_/And hopefully they won't make the connection between Kumuda/Akasema-san living for centuries and what's happened to me, Aoko and 'Yumi-chan. Hopefully./_

"Which is what, exactly?" Conan was fidgeting with his soda-can in a meaningful way; Kuroba hoped he wouldn't throw it, since this was important. He took another deep breath.

_/Okay, here we go…/_

"Basically, that it's her husband Indrajiit that started the whole Black Org thing, way back centuries ago. You mentioned drugs and the black market earlier; when his little pocket-sized empire got overrun in the 1500's, he and his offspring—and apparently there were quite a few more by then, half-bloods—moved out and into bigger things: opium, mostly, and hashish. Wasn't illegal then, of course; you didn't have drug-laws yet. So the family dealt in opium and slaves to work the poppy-fields. And then, what with wars and conscriptions and so forth, assassination got to be big business, so they opened up new markets in places like China and Jerusalem and Cairo… Drugs, slavery, blackmail, death for hire… this Indrajiit character saw it all as nothing but profit. Not much for morals, and apparently he was pretty good at making his word law." Kaito hesitated for a moment, remembering what he had been told. "There was something Akasema-san said about… I'm not sure, exactly, but I—think he could kill at a distance somehow? Something like that….. She said he could only do it to his descendents, which is why his top echelon was strictly family."

By now Conan was sitting back, arms folded tightly and with the most _cynical_ expression on his youthful face… "This is all very interesting, Kuroba, but I'm not exactly seeing where it's going. We already know that the Organization has members infiltrating levels of government, classified research, the authorities-- It's not feasible that they could all be members of this, this—"

"She called it the _Hatazesa,"_ supplied Kaito, frowning. "In Sanskrit it means _'those omitted from the slain';_ Akasema-san also said that one of the covers the present-day batch of baddies uses is 'HataSessa Industries', which figures." 'HataSessa' could be translated roughly as 'of high quality', a nice and innocuous business name.

The boy waved irritably; beneath him, the earth rumbled just perceptibly with an echo of some sort of noise from far off. "Whatever. I don't care what kind of superstitious crap she tried to put over on you, this is all just-- Kuroba, I can't believe YOU of all people let yourself swallow it hook, line and sinker. There is **_not_ **an immortal, unkillable crime-syndicate family behind the Black Organization; that's just _too _unbelievable." He snorted.

Kaito's patience was beginning to wear thin. "Oh, really?" he snapped. "What makes you so sure? 'Me of all people', huh? Shit, Kudo, you should know better than anyone that impossible things can happen—they've happened to you and Rin!" He stood up, crossing his own arms and glaring down at the stubborn face before him. "And look at _me,_ for God's sake, I'm a living example of what we've been talking about! I'm not saying that I'm taking everything Akasema-san told me just blindly, but at least I've got enough sense to say that it's possible!" With a growl he leaned against the cold concrete wall of the tunnel. "Stupid, thick-headed detective types… You've seen my eyes, you've seen me heal, what more do you want, blood?"

The former Kudo Shinichi growled right back at him, on his feet now and right in his face. "What I _want_ is for you to not let your, your—condition—blind you to what could be a trap that'd come down on ALL our necks. If I let myself believe in immortal, ageless, drug-dealing assassins, what's next? What'll you ask me to accept tomorrow? You might as well ask me to believe in—"

_"—ghosts?"_ said Rin softly from behind Conan. "Remember _Toshiro-kun,_ Shinichi? **I **do." There was a stricken silence.

_/…okay, I'm not sure what she just did, but it sure stopped Kudo cold. And Toshiro was the boy who died in that mess with 'Yumi-chan's school, so-- Ghosts? Do I want to know? …..well, yeah, of course I do, but not right now./_ The boy was perfectly rigid, fists balled at his sides; his expression was not one that Kaito had ever expected to see on the Detective of the West's face, not ever. _/Note to self: find out what the hell happened and make sure it doesn't happen to me. I've had enough trauma for this century./_

"Fine," he said at last; there was more than a trace of bitterness in the word. "Let's just say that I was willing to—to accept the possibility that what you've told us is true; it still doesn't add up. Explain the rest." And he crossed his arms again, glaring through the shadows.

Kaito shrugged, relaxing a little; _/At least the shrimp looks like he's willing to listen now… Go Rin!/_. "According to what Akasema-san said, there was some sort of schism about a century or so back; the organization had been hiring a lot outside the family, and some of the higher-ranking hirees got hold of enough power and influence to split off and form their own Mafioso of sorts. They grew faster than the original since they weren't dependent on family blood to fuel the ranks; the two branches kept to their own territories for the most part up 'til about sixty years ago, and then they rejoined to secure their holdings through wartime and the rebuilding afterwards. They've been more or less working in tandem ever since, but you've got the Hatazesa on one hand and the larger syndicate on the other; there's been friction lately, mostly because this Indrajiit's been concentrating on going after the Pandora Gem."

"Why?" asked Rin curiously from behind them; they both looked at her. "After all, they've already GOT immortality… if what you were told was correct, I mean; why should they need the Gem now?"

_/Erk. Good question, but not one I was hoping you'd ask; it hits a little too close to home./_ Something of the same anguish that had overcome him so badly on the trip home that morning welled up inside Kaito for a moment; he struggled to suppress it. _/Now is not the time to freak out; deal with that later, idiot./ _"Well—apparently there are some medical problems for people who've been affected by the Gem, if they don't come in contact with it now and then…"

A rustle in the dark as Conan sat back down; he crossed his arms again, looking skeptical. "Must be pretty severe problems for them to go to this much trouble," he muttered grimly. "They've killed their own agents, wasted lives, exposed themselves to view… and that _last_ one is what bothers me the most: What's so crucial that they'd risk exposure? Nakamori-san's even got a couple of them as prisoners right now, doesn't he?"

_/Aaack. Getting closer--/_ "If they're still alive, he does…" Kaito sighed. "There's something else that Akasema-san told me, an answer to something I've been trying to figure out for a while now—the reason why some of the agents have committed suicide rather than be taken for questioning." In the shadows, Conan blinked; the thief could see him clearly. "Seems that when a Hatazesa is put into action as an agent, they always have what she called a 'counterpart'—a kind of hostage, usually related, somebody who'll be automatically killed if they're captured or if they desert. That's why some of 'em have blown their brains out or shot each other when there was no other way out; even the bad guys have wives and kids, parents, that sort of thing." Kaito looked away, feeling a little sick. "According to Akasema-san, the other branch of the organization uses this policy too, but I don't know whether or not they—"

There was a sudden intake of breath from Rin; Spot woke up with a _Prrt?_ of inquiry. "Like Ai-kun," she whispered. At Kaito's wordless sound of puzzlement, she explained. "Ai-kun's sister was _her_ 'counterpart'; so long as Ai behaved herself, she would be fine. But then her sister found out and ended up getting herself killed, so Ai—"

"Holy freaking HELL," said Kaito faintly. "You mean that scary little blonde not-really-a-kid **_used to be a Black Org operative?"_** He ran one shaky hand through his hair, making it even worse than usual. "I've been spilling my guts all over the place and you two _KNEW_ about all this stuff already? That's kaito-abuse, making us tell secrets when we don't have to! Aaaargh—"

"We DIDN'T know it," said Rin-kun defensively as both she and Conan bristled. "We didn't know anything at all about the Pandora Gem or India or separate branches or… any of that. And Ai's _not_ one of THAT part of the organization, if it really exists—she was _normal_. As normal as she gets… I mean, she—you _know_ what I mean!"

"Okay, okay, got it," growled Kaito. "But it'd be a hell of a lot easier on my nerves if you _told_ me that sort of thing. I thought we were s'posed to be sharing information! Why ELSE the hell have we been dancing around this whole Trust-Me,-I'm-On-Your-Side idea?" He turned to stare at the angry boy still glowering in his general direction. "Shit, Kudo… Is there anything else you two have neglected to tell me?"

And Kudo (damn him) _smirked,_ just a bit. "…..Well, yes, actually."

Kaito closed his eyes and counted backwards from ten inside his head. "Like what?"

"It's about the bomb, the one on your door… I did mention that we saw it being planted and by whom, didn't I?"

_/Deep breaths, Kaito, deep breaths. Stomping on Kudo's head will not help./_ "And I told you earlier that I didn't really care who planted it, it was probably just one more flunky—"

"No, actually, it wasn't."

_/Huh?/_ "…Okay, I'll bite. Who was it?"

Rin was the one who answered, her clear voice troubled. "One of the Taskforce squadmembers. His name-patch said 'Hamada'." She jumped slightly as his eyes opened very wide, but continued. "And the person who kept watch was a woman, sort of small and… washed-out looking; one of the other squadmembers called her Akutou-san. She wasn't in a uniform, she was just—"

"Oh, _holy_ shit…" The exclamation was nearly reverent. "Well, we knew that there was at least one mole in Nakamori's office; two aren't exactly a surprise." Kaito wiped sudden beads of sweat from his forehead. "I just didn't expect 'em to be a guy who's been on the force for almost a decade and his _personal secretary…_ This needs to be taken care of."

"I know." Conan's small face was grim; somehow he looked more like his previous self at that moment than usual. "And I have a few ideas on how to handle it. Hattori's asking questions—he called us after your heist, remember?—and something like this would be perfect for him, considering his father's connections." The boy turned his soda-can around in his fingers, staring at it thoughtfully. "Obviously this Akutou-san would be more likely than Hamada-san to be a member of your so-called 'Hatazesa'; I wonder how long it took her to maneuver her way into her position as Nakamori's secretary? It'd be--"

"Wait, wait—'obviously'? Why 'obviously'?"

Even in the dark, Kudo looked impatient. "Think about it. Squadmembers are frequently called on to work in darkened conditions, aren't they? If this Hamada's eyes were like yours, it would have been noticed by now. You mentioned that he's been an officer for a number of years; active members of the police force are required to pass physicals, which include eye-exams. Therefore, Hamada is less likely to have been modified by the Pandora Gem than Akutou-san, who was _not_ wearing a uniform and is therefore a civilian and not carrying a badge." He swallowed the last of his drink and handed over the can, adding, "If she's a recent addition to Nakamori's staff, she also would have less of a background to build; that'd mean less chance of blowing her cover. It all adds up."

Eyebrows rising, Kaito took the soda-can and tucked it away in his pack. "And that's why you're the detective and I'm the thief," he commented with an unseen grin; you really did have to admire Kudo's brain… so long as he wasn't using it to attempt to take you down, anyway. "Are you two finished? Right, let's get going; we've still got walking ahead of us… and I've still got a few things to take care of before I head out tonight." His nerves settled a little as Kaito gathered himself together, despite the unease that had risen in the pit of his stomach during the conversation. _/Whew… looks like I got away with it; they didn't think about asking--/_

"Kuroba? There's one thing I would like a little more information on… This Akasema-san claims to be several centuries old due to the effects of the Pandora Gem, correct? Then… that would follow that anyone who was affected in the same way would also take on the same ability, right? You, for instance, and Aoko-san and… Ayumi as well, or am I missing something?"

_/Ah, **shit.** Figures. So much for getting away with anything when Kudo's around. How DOES he do that?/_

"No… you're not missing a thing." Kaito sighed, shouldering his packs again; the larger one seemed heavier than ever, or maybe that was just the guilt piling up. "And I was kind of hoping that neither of you would catch that little detail…" Maybe the depression that rose up inside of the thief showed in his voice, if his companions' expressions were any indication; he'd have to watch that. "That's what I was told: that we'd get a little older, reach full maturity… and then not age any more. And if you're thinking that this sounds like a good deal, _don't._ THINK about it for a minute first. Sure, no grey hairs or wrinkles, but what about watching the people around you age and die? Your family, your friends…" Kaito walked on in silence for a moment. "Akasema-san said that the effects are less with each generation, but that she and the rest of them still have to be careful about medical checkups… A lot of her, uh, relatives are doctors; it saves trouble when the records have to be falsified—birth-certificates, whatever."

"You're saying _'them',_ not 'us'," said Rin-kun gently from behind him. "Why? Aren't you the same?" At his silence she asked again: "Why?"

Kaito stopped, turning around almost angrily around. "Because I don't WANT to be one of them, that's why! Haven't you two geniuses figured it out yet?" He clutched at his hair again, one of his packs sliding to the ground. "Bad enough that my life's been totally screwed, skewed and dragged through the wringer with being the Kid—who wants _this_ kind of weirdness too? Okay, the healing's nice and all, and seeing in the dark is cool, but…" He stared at the two small figures desperately. "This isn't just until I catch the bad guys or something—this is _always._ If anybody can understand, it ought to be you two. You've had your lives broken and then put back together… like me. Only now," and for once Kaito's proud control failed him and his voice went unsteady, "now it's broken again… and it isn't just mine. It's Aoko's and 'Yumi-chan's, and it _isn't fair to them either! _Why should they have to pay for my mistakes? If it was just me, it wouldn't be so bad, but—"

Kaito stopped. They were both _looking_ at him, and all the guilt and remorse that had ridden with him on the train back to Tokyo rose up and stared back too, right into his face. "Ayumi'll watch her friends grow old without her," said the thief tonelessly. "If she falls in love with some guy after she grows up, she'll know that _he'll_ age when she won't; _everybody_ will. Everybody except me and Aoko and her kitten… Do you understand? And I've done something even worse than that, too—"

This time it was Conan who spoke. "What did you do?" asked the boy quietly.

He hung his head. "Made it impossible for any of us—**_us_** listen to me, I'm using 'us' now—to even offer whatever the hell the Gem does to somebody else, a friend or lover or whatever. Because I _broke_ it, remember?" Realization and startlement leaped into their eyes as he continued wretchedly. "I shattered the goddamn thing with the butt of my cardgun, right there in 'Yumi-chan's room, **_weeks_** ago—by now every scrap's bound to've been long since swept up with the trash and thrown away. So now she can't even offer that to her friends or family; neither can I, neither can Aoko, neither can Akasema-san or any of the others, good or bad. Because I screwed things up completely, because I wanted revenge for my dad's death. And there's absolutely nothing I can do about it."

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed tightly as if to protect himself from their condemnation; there was a faint rumbling in the floor, as if from a distance. "You two came into this as a victim and a volunteer," Kaito said into the silence of the dark tunnel. "I got into my part of it willingly and with my eyes open. Aoko and 'Yumi-chan tripped over me and fell into it, and whatever happens to them is my fault; no argument." Kuroba Kaito took a deep, ragged breath. "Aoko knows; I think she's handling it okay—better than me, probably… but Ayumi doesn't know a thing. She's _innocent,_ and if those Black Org bastards find out about her and…" The thief swallowed hard.

Kaito turned back to look at his two silent companions. "So how do I fix **_this_** Tantei-san, Rin-Tantei?? You two can handle killers; how are you with lives? Got any ideas? 'Cause I may be the Kaitou Kid, but this is one trick that has ME stumped. I'm stuck. All I can think of is to go away for a while, maybe draw their interest away from Tokyo just in case… I'm gonna talk to 'Yumi-chan before I leave, warn her to be careful; if I could, I'd take her with me, but somehow I don't think her parents would like getting a Kid Notice about their daughter. 'Hello, this is the Kaitou Kid, and sorry but I'll be stealing Ayumi from you in time to make the midnight express—'" The thief laughed bitterly, gathering up his packs again. "Never mind; you can't fix it and neither can I—hell, I'm not even sure I _believe_ it yet. Let's just get going, okay? I'll drop you two off and have a word with 'Yumi-chan and then you can just pretend I fell off the edge of the earth for a while." He turned on his heel and headed down the dark tunnel, footsteps as soundless as ever against the rumble that ran through the earth once again.

In silence, they followed.

_

* * *

/So that's why he was so traumatized when he came in; he'd been thinking about that all the way back to Tokyo./ Conan's eyes ached as they tried to fix onto and follow the nearly imperceptible outline of their guide. __/I thought he was being awfully accepting of us-- I expected him to go completely ballistic when he really woke up, even if I did take care of that bomb. Instead he damn near welcomed us into his home, his 'lair' and his secrets. Why? Because he's burning his bridges behind him. I saw that when he closed up his father's room, but I didn't realize that he doesn't really expect to be able to return./_ Conan's eyes ached as they tried to fix onto and follow the nearly imperceptible outline of their guide. 

_/So what's his goal now? What does a guy like Kuroba aim for when he loses his grip on security, his home and the one place he felt safe? Use your brain, Kudo….. Answer: First off, he's going to do everything he can to make sure that his friends and family are safe, and secondly he's going to try to fulfill his promise—to bring down his father's killers./_

_/I'm glad I'm not him. No matter how much of what he just told us was bullshit or the absolute truth, in a way Rin and Ai and me are better off—we still have our identities; he's throwing his away. No, that's wrong; he's sacrificing it for everything else. 'Kuroba Kaito' is dangerous to be around, so 'Kuroba Kaito' is going to vanish, possibly for good./_

_/I'm really glad I'm not him. But at least he has Aoko-kun waiting for him, wherever she is./_

The tunnel gradually lightened, slanting up and up in a rambling incline that brought them close to street level; the earth beneath them shook slightly, rumbling again. "What's that sound?" whispered Rin uneasily; no answer. Then a heavy wooden door and a short flight of rickety stairs it brought them _above_ street level and opened out into—

--_cold;_ cold enough to make their breath fog around their faces. Harsh artificial light reflected off clean steel panels and tiled walls; they seemed to be in some sort of old warehouse, but why was it so cold? Rin rubbed her thin arms as goose-bumps arose; and as Kaito unlocked the door Conan suddenly halted, sniffing the air. "What's that smell? It's familiar—" he asked in a low voice.

"Blood," answered Kuroba briefly, locking the door behind them. "Follow me and don't say a word; sometimes they work late at night in the other room." His face had closed down into the Poker Face, shut tight as the door to his father's room had been.

The thief led them through the orderly stack of boxes and crates until they emerged into a much larger room, where the scent was explained by an increase in the chill and by the sight that met their eyes… Rows and rows of carcasses hung from hooks in what was obviously a meat-storage warehouse, glistening with frost—sides of beef and pork, frozen solid and dead. Only the hum of the cooling units broke the silence as they slipped quietly along one wall, following their guide through the freezing air.

Rin and Conan found themselves holding each other's hands without saying a word about it; it didn't seem necessary. Even Spot seemed subdued.

At last their path led back into another freezer unit, this one more modern than the others; inside, the chill was stronger than ever. An all-pervading aroma of fish filled the air but the room was mostly empty, and the back of a storage-locker gave way to another tunnel, one that they had to crouch to enter. "There's a couple of steps down," said Kuroba, barely above breathing; the words fogged around his face as he slid his pack in before him and held the sliding panel up to allow his two companions to enter. Rin stumbled slightly, catching herself on Conan's shoulder as she crouched in the chilly, unlit space (which proved to be as cold as the room above; no surprise there), and Kaito glanced back with another flash of those strange blue eyes. "Shh. Not too much further—This is the last leg of the trip. C'mon."

Ten meters, twenty through the dark; if Kuroba could see, then he was the only one who could. A small fist gripped his coat from behind; it might have been Rin's, but actually it was Conan's. Twenty more meters in the blackness, rising swiftly, and another twenty; and then the rumbling began again, only a lot louder this time.

A _LOT_ louder…

"W-what IS that?" stammered Rin, hands over her ears in a futile attempt to shut out what was as much felt as heard. Spot yowled in complaint and dug back down into her pack until only his tail-tip was visible.

"Trains," said Kuroba; his face was still the Poker Face, as giving as a brick wall. "Sorry I can't drop you two off at your doorstep, but my tunnels only go so far. You'll have to settle for the northwest Beika Shinkansen station. Think you can get home from there?" Without waiting for a reply, he went to work on the heavy steel door that their pathway ended in—one with no less than seven locks. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges; "Wait here a sec, okay? I need to change clothes."

"Err. Fine." _/At least the door's staying open…/_ A little bemused (and more than a little exhausted by now), Conan frowned at the thief as he slipped inside; through the small opening remaining the detective could see—racks? Of clothing, and what looked like masks… "It's a _bolt-hole,_ like Holmes used in the Doyle stories," he said, thinking out loud; beside him Rin nodded, apparently thinking along the same lines. The Great Detective of fiction had supposedly had private, secret rooms scattered across London that contained his disguises and paraphernalia; trust the Kaitou Kid to do the same…

Rustling sounds gave way to thuds, masked by that earth-shaking rumble and a scent that was suddenly recognizable: the ozone of train-tracks, the smell that always hung around the Shinkansen no matter where it was. They really WERE where they had been told they were… _/God, how far did we walk? A hell of a long way as the kaitou flies, I guess. This explains so much of how easily he--/_

Abruptly Conan's thoughts were interrupted as the metal door swung open. "You can come in now," said a clear, cheerful (and unexpectedly feminine) voice. "I won't bite."

_/Erk? NOW what?/_ Warily he looked at Rin, who gave back a meaningful shrug; they trudged through the door.

"Ahem--? Himitsu-kun, Edogawa-kun? Pleased to make your acquaintance—My name is Ise Chidori."

The smiling young woman in the college blazer stood just inside the cluttered room beyond and gave them both a neat bow, carefully hefting the battered cello-case that she wheeled beside her. The instrument case was ornamented here and there with stickers from concerts; shipping and identification tags dangled from the handle. It had obviously seen a lot of mileage and had protected its cargo from much worse dangers than the occasional curious shinkansen inspector…

Ise Chidori wasn't anything special to look at; no great beauty or anything, just a slightly tired, slightly creased young woman wearing a winter orchestra jacket from one of Tokyo's many colleges; a backpack (not the same one that Kuroba had carried earlier) dangled from one hand, and a nondescript sweater and jeans made her not particularly memorable (which was probably the point.)

The two stared at –well calling Kuroba "him" right now would sound more than a little odd—in interest; it was less shocking this time, although the number of times Kuroba seemed to cross-dress was beginning to cause Conan a few private worries. "So _that's_ how you plan on taking your gear on the train," said the small detective slowly, not without a trace of admiration. "You're going to make them do the work for you, is that it? Not bad."

The young 'woman' ducked her head modestly, smoothing a strand of black hair back and tucking it inside her hair-band. "Why not? I'm going to pay for the ticket, after all… I'll just pay the fare, store it here in the carry-on baggage area while I take care of this and that, and catch my train later on." Black eyes (contacts? They had to be) twinkled out of her somewhat plain face as she (it was impossible to think of Kuroba as 'he') smiled. "This much baggage will attract attention no matter what, so… This is just one way to deal with it; I thought of about six more on the way here, but it'll do okay for now." The artful blush that fanned 'her' cheeks had nothing to do with shyness and everything to do with cosmetics. "And if none of those are workable, then I'll think of something else—"

Conan blinked. "Hang on-- _SIX_ more? You're kidding, right?" Beside him, Rin rolled her eyes in exasperation.

'Chidori' grinned back, a flash of white teeth. "Nope. And _that, _Tantei-san, is why **_I'm_** the Phantom Thief here and **_you're_** the detective. Rin-kun, take care of him; don't let his head swell too much while I'm gone, okay? Quick now, out the door and scoot to your right. See you later, don't get killed, enjoy taking care of Spot, tell Hattori 'Hi' from Kuroba, if you see Nakamori let him know the Kid sends hugs and kisses, Jaa!" Pushing them all before her, Ise-san opened a door and shoved them all out, bag and baggage—

--into the noise and bustle of what really _was_ the northwest Beika Shinkansen station. "Be sure you head straight home, now-- Neechan has to go buy her ticket! G'bye." And 'she' turned away—

_"Kuroba!!"_ hissed Conan, charging after him.

"Oh NO you don't," muttered Rin, grabbing hard on his sleeve and yanking. "You're not leaving me behind THIS time—" Taking a deep breath of the station's busy air, she yelled out in her shrill little-girl voice: **_"CHIDORI-NEEEEECHAN!!!"_**

Surprisingly (or not so surprisingly), the young woman with the cello-case turned around, eyebrows up. "Look," said Rin fiercely and a lot more softly, "you just—just take care of yourself, okay? No matter what's happened to you and Aoko-kun and Ayumi, you'll… figure a way out, won't you? You're _good_ at figuring ways out." Her eyes were intent as she caught her 'nee-chan's' sleeve. "Don't give up. We won't either." Beside her, her companion just nodded; Rin had said it for him.

'Chidori-neechan' stared back at them both, and for a second Kuroba Kaito's expression of surprise swept across her features. "…I…… okay. I'll do my best, but… I don't know what I can do against _this._ Thanks anyway, Rin-kun." For a moment, 'she' took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When they opened, they were Chidori's again, playful and only a little tired. "Nothing to add, Conan-kun?"

"Yeah, there is. _Don't make me do all your dirty work, Kuroba."_ Kudo Shinichi stared directly out from behind Conan's face. "If you give up, **_I_ **win, don't I?" A smile then, bordering on a very uncharitable look of superiority. "There's been a contest between us for a while now; are you going to let that happen? Are you going to _give in_ and let me succeed against the men who killed your father while you fail?"

_That_ brought about a very non-Chidori flash of expression; and for a moment, the contacts were useless against the firefly glow from behind them. "Hell no. Just watch me, Kudo," said Kuroba Kaito very, very softly_. "Just_ _watch me."_

Kudo Shinichi grinned back, a real grin with all traces of malice gone. "I plan to."

Then the plain-faced young woman with the cello-case smiled at her young relatives in farewell, grabbed her oversized luggage, and trundled off into the late-night crowd. The only thing remarkable about her at all was how quickly she disappeared from sight.

* * *

"Uh… Rin-kun? Do you remember agreeing to cat-sit for Kuroba? I don't."

"Me either. Oh well… Did I mention that we're taking care of his goldfish as well?"

_"PrrrROWw! Hsssssss--"_

* * *

And a couple of hours later now, after several errands and a quick visit to a certain little girl's balcony……..

Ise Chidori, orchestral student at a little-known Tokyo college, made sure her cello was loaded and caught the midnight Shinkansen northbound towards…

Just—_northbound_. Jii would set up some sort of pickup; Chidori—Kaito—was sure of that.

Kaito hadn't told Kudo and company everything. The whole weird bit about the dreams, for instance; how the hell could he expect two logical, just-the-facts-sir, down-to-earth types like Kudo and Mouri to believe in some sort of bizarre, shared dreamscape? He could just hear Kudo now: _/He'd say 'So, what you're telling me is that Akasema-san claims that you and other people affected by the Pandora Gem occasionally end up in the same dream? At the same time? When Akasema-san feels like it? On an invitation-only basis? Riiiight. You know, they have good psychotherapy programs in prison these days…' And THEN he'd give me one of those Looks of his. And then I'd step on his brainy little head and Rin'd shoot me about twelve times with that dart-thingy of hers and—aack. Just… aack./_

He hadn't talked about where he was going, either, but that was to be expected. Known felons, even ones currently at truce with Sherlock-for-Brains, did not divulge their destinations. Kudo'd just have to trust him… and so far, that seemed to be working out pretty well.

_/Man, I'd hate to be him, though. He and Rin-kun just saw me off into parts unknown; they haven't a clue when I'll be back, all they can do is believe what I tell them—which, fortunately for them, is the truth: that I **will**__be back. But now they've got to deal with Nakamori and his prisoners, watching over 'Yumi-chan, an angry Hattori-kun, and a very suspicious Hakuba; I expect he'll be poking his nose in at any time./_

_/Nope; don't wanna be Kudo right now. Poor guy. But at least he's got Rin-kun with him; she's one hell of a, um, woman? Girl? Whatever./ _'Chidori' settled herself quietly in her seat, riffling through some of the cello music that she had pulled from her backpack until she reached the page with all the notes scribbled in the margins (they had nothing to do with music and everything to do with recent events, but that was her business and no-one else's). Crossing her legs, she sat back a little more comfortably and pulled out a pencil.

_/Let's see….. Next stop: My unknown great-uncle's house. And won't THAT be interesting… Aoko, please don't bludgeon me for sending you on ahead, okay? I didn't have much choice but to trust in Jii's good judgment. I hope you're having fun, I hope you won't kill me when you see me, and I hope you and my mom haven't started planning my future for me yet; I don't know how long of a one I've got./_

_/Could be a few days… could be a few centuries. Who knows?/_

Chidori nibbled on the end of her pencil and began to think…..

**_

* * *

Ysabet's Notes:__ Too long! Too long! Aaaaaaargh….._**

_Sorry this took such a while to show up; LOTS of delays. For those of you who sent good wishes about my brother, thanks; he's out of the hospital (56 days, daaaamn) and doing much better now. This chapter was… well, there was a LOT of dialogue in it, which stretched it and stretched it until I almost broke it in half; should I have? I wanted to do so much all in one piece, but—oh well._

_Next time: The Addams Family—I mean, the KUROBA Family welcomes home its stray kaitou; Hakuba, Heiji and Conan get busy; and Nakamori makes a few discoveries of his own._


	19. Geography

**_Chapter 19: Geography_**

_Well, it's 3 a.m., I'm out here riding again  
Through the wicked winding streets of my world;  
I make a wrong turn, brake it—now I'm too far gone,  
I got a siren on my tail and  
__That ain't the fine I'm looking for…  
I see a stairway, so I follow it down  
Into the belly of a whale  
Where my secrets echo all around;  
You know me now, but to do better than that,  
You've got to follow me:  
Boy, I'm tryin' to show you where I'm at…..  
(Poe, "Hey Pretty")  
_

Identity is a strange thing, isn't it?

Depending on the culture, a person's identity is frequently defined at least in part by the title they're granted, either by their profession or by those who follow them. That makes sense on the surface; but when you think about it, isn't it a little odd? It's as if some part of the human brain insists that calling someone a pilot automatically enables them to fly a plane, or that labeling someone a Master Chef guarantees that their concoctions will be edible.

Humans _compartmentalize._ Of course, if the pilot tends towards motion-sickness or the Master Chef has too great a liking for kimchee-and-vegemite on toast, then _everybody_ suffers. But such is art. Pilots fly, chefs cook, authors write; no one who jots down "secretary" on an employment application ever expects to end up operating a submarine or swinging on a trapeze. These things go without saying, don't they?

Still… things that 'go without saying' are frequently the trickiest ones... For instance, just consider that word: _trick. _Magicians, by definition, commit magic; and one of the synonyms for magic is 'trickery'. But trickery is just another way of saying _"I am showing you a falsehood; what you see is not true, it's just an illusion. I am lying to your senses."_

Lies, by definition, are committed by liars; and if you asked a child what they thought a liar was, they might say something like 'Oh, that's somebody who tells _stories…..'_

And phantom thieves?

For them it's the **_story_**, not the prize; phantom thieves steal as naturally as a crow picking up a bright fleck of mica in its beak—not for gain, not for the goods, but because it's shiny and it sparkles like a bright, bright jewel in a dim, shadowy world. Not for profit, or not mostly; for the beauty of the thing and the beauty of the trick, the _story_ that gets left behind when the crow flies off gloating over its new treasure.

Tricks and treasures, treasures and tricks.

Trick or treat…..

* * *

_Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwnnn……._

It was somewhere around 2 a.m. in the morning of October 31st, and Yoshida Ayumi could not sleep. Her thoughts were too loud.

Beneath the quilt her obaasan had made her she lay drowsy but awake, staring up at the painted stars on her ceiling; until recently their glow had been what made them visible in the dark, but now she could see them easily. They were pretty; Ayumi liked being able to see like this. It was _fun,_ having eyes like a cat…

…and it made it easier to read after bed-time without her mother noticing.

Hei-san had talked about that, when he had stopped by a while earlier. No—the _Kaitou Kid_ had stopped by, not Hei-san. Ayumi giggled secretly to herself at the thought; _SHE_ knew the _Kaitou Kid._ It hadn't seemed so amazing or wonderful, back when he had been wounded and hiding in her closet—there had been too many things to worry about, and afterwards he had just been Hei-san. But tonight…..

The little girl hugged the memory to herself, eyes sparkling more brightly than the stars on her ceiling, and remembered:

_Tap, tap tap—_

_The child hadn't quite been asleep; a library-book had slid out from beneath the covers onto the floor as she jerked upright, alert. Noise at her balcony might be monsters, or it might be the wind, or it might be—_

_There had been a white figure smiling in at her, almost scary for a second before she had recognized her friend; his monocle had gathered the thin light from below and reflecting it back like the moon. A cloak had streamed in the cold wind, curling around its wearer in silky drifts as Ayumi had slid a little tremulously out of her bed and padded to the door._

_She'd slid it open, nearly dancing in excitement. "H-HEI-SAN!"_

_"Shhhh-" whispered the Kaitou Kid._

_He had slipped in, silent and very different from the painful figure he had been the last time he had entered the sliding glass doors. This time her friend had been smiling easily, almost a stranger in the white coat and cape and hat (but not quite; somehow he would always be Hei-san, no matter whether he was Kaito or the kaitou). He had carried with him a breath of the outside chill, a scent of wind and rising exhaust from the city below and the very faintest tinge of something sweet._

_"Hey, 'Yumi-chan; hope you weren't asleep yet—"_

_And his eyes had caught the light, just like hers had lately, only BLUE. Really blue, like hers were golden now. She knew; she had looked in the mirror zillions of times, over and over and over. They were fixed on hers, and they were very wide. Ayumi wondered how hers looked to Hei-san now—_

_"No, I was reading. See? I've been learning some new tricks!" She had scooped her precious book ('Jaw Droppers: 101 Amazing Tricks Anyone Can Do') from the floor and brandished it. "I can do the Connecting Rings trick and the Dancing Handkerchief and I can almost make a 5-yen piece disappear but I keep dropping it, and I borrowed my 'Kaasan's 'frigerator magnet to do the Standing Matchstick trick but I haven't fixed the match yet 'cause my mama won't let me play with matches, so—"_

_He had chuckled; the monocle flashed again and he hadn't been scary at all. "Sounds like you've been working hard. Reading under the covers, huh? I used to do that a lot too when I was your age… except that I used a flashlight." The easy smile had faltered just a bit; "You didn't need to, though, did you?"_

_Ayumi__ had beamed back at him. "UH uh. It's really cool; but Hei-san? WHY can I see in the dark? WHY are my eyes glowy? Why are YOUR eyes glowy? Are Aoko-san's eyes glowy too? What color are they? I like yours, they look like police-car lights." That had made him wince a little, and the firefly-gleam of her friend's eyes had suddenly become shuttered as he sank down cross-legged on her floor, back against the doorjamb._

_"'Why', huh… It's a long story, and I'm not really sure if I even believe everything I've been told yet. But it doesn't scare you? Being able to do this, I mean?"_

_"That's silly, Hei-san. Why should it scare me?" She had sat down opposite him, cold toes tucked beneath her; it was a little chilly with the door open, but he didn't seem to want to shut it. "It's neat being able to see in the dark—even CONAN-kun can't see in the dark. I like it. But I still want to know why—"_

_Hei__-san had removed his hat, scratching at that wild hair of his; he had seemed more familiar like that, more her friend and less the Kaitou Kid. "Well… okay, I'll try to explain. This is how it happened…"_

_And he had quietly told her a story, one as fantastic as any fairy-tale. It had involved an East Indian queen, an evil king, and a magic stone; and it had all been real, as real as—as pillows and blankets and Ayumi's library-book. All of it, only it had happened a long time ago. And it was still happening today—the queen's eyes had glowed like hers and Hei-san's, only he said that they had been green. Hei-san had SEEN them, because the queen was still alive, young and beautiful and not old at all. "Is she like Dracula?" Ayumi had asked doubtfully, remembering late-night movies; "Or the Mummy?"_

_Hei__-san had laughed at that. "No way, not like that at all. She's a little bossy, but nope; no bandages, and I didn't see any fangs, coffins or bats. 'Yumi-chan? Have you shown anybody your eyes, or told them about being able to see in the dark?"_

_"Nooooo… not yet…"_

_He had sighed. "Good. Don't, okay? Please? Not even your 'Kaasan or 'Tousan, just yet… they might get upset."_

_"Upset? How come?"_

_Because, he had said, he needed it to be kept secret for a while—not forever, but just for a while. And he had asked her to trust him, which was also silly; of course she trusted him. Trusting him was easy._

_Keepng__ secrets was__ hard, though. But she had promised anyway._

_"Why are you dressed up tonight?" Ayumi had wriggled her sock-clad toes in excitement, fidgeting. "Are, are you going to do a robbery tonight?"_

_Hei__-san had tapped her on the nose with one white-gloved fingertip. "I," he had informed her loftily, "do **not** do 'robberies'; I do HEISTS. And nope; I just thought you might want to see me like this for once without my either being on the run from the cops or having blood all over me. So… want to work on those tricks for a bit, 'Yumi-chan?" He had grinned then, and she had grinned back._

_It had almost seemed like he wanted to play, as if he had been a kid too; his face had looked like he was worried about something, or maybe just tired. And so for a little while that was what they had done: just played, with decks of cards and mysteriously-knotted handkerchiefs and a disappearing rubber ball, with rings that interlinked and magically came apart (if you did things right, anyway). They had kept their voices low; she had tried on his hat (it hadn't had anything in the inner pockets that time, much to Ayumi's disappointment) and he had told her about his monocle and about how his father had worn it before him._

_It had been fun; and he had looked a little happier after a while. Grownups (even cool grownups like Hei-san) worried too much._

_"Ayumi?__ Have you noticed anything about… well, have you gotten scratched or bruised while you were playing lately? And then had the scratch or bruise or whatever go away later?"_

_She had been looking through his monocle, peering out over the balcony at how the lights below had twinkled and bloomed through the glass. "Um… I had an ant-bite at Recess the other day, and it stopped itching really quick… It wasn't even red when I looked at it later. Like that?" The monocle had an enameled frame that was too big for her small nose; the triangular four-leaf-clover charm swinging from it had glittered as she turned it over between her fingers, wondering how on earth the thing stayed on a person's face when they were hang-gliding through the air. "Hei-san? Does this ever fall off?"_

_Hei__-san had been flipping through her Pokemon Cards, absentmindedly putting them in order with quick, skillful flicks of his gloved fingers. "Only when people shoot at me… Listen, 'Yumi-chan? One of the reasons I stopped by tonight was to ask you to be really, REALLY careful for a while. I need to go away for a bit, so you won't be seeing me for a while."_

_"But— Can't you stay? Just a LITTLE longer?" Ayumi had wheedled, fighting disappointment; she had missed their weekly lessons, and... she was just the tiniest bit scared, too, of the bad guys he had been fighting. She had heard Conan-kun and Rin-kun talking about that when they thought she was too far away to hear—_

_He had looked so sad then. "I don't want to go either, but I have to. I need to take care of some family stuff; and Aoko's waiting for me." Hei-san had ruffled her hair, taking back his monocle and clicking it into place carefully; the charm had winked at her in the not-really-darkness-any-more of her room. "She's up visiting one of my relatives… and if I don't get my butt up there, she'll REALLY whap me good when she sees me." The magician had laughed softly, adding "She's really a very lovely girl for a homicidal maniac, y'know."_

_"I know," Ayumi had agreed solemnly. "When will you come back?"_

_"As soon as I can, I promise. In the meantime," he had said as he stood silently back up and put his hat back on, "you be extra careful—and tell Conan-kun or Rin-kun or even that scary blonde kid Ai if you think there's ANYTHING wrong at all. Promise me? Anything suspicious, anything that feels even slightly wrong—you'll tell 'em right away, okay?" The shining blue eyes had been very bright._

_"I will, I promise. And I'll keep practicing, too…"_

_Hei__-san had seemed a little relieved, but the sadness was still there. "Good; you do that, 'Yumi-chan. Remember, ANYTHING." And she had nodded._

_There had been something else bothering him—she could tell, and she had wondered what it was. "Hei-san? What's wrong?" He seemed to be staring at a place on the floor by the closet, the place where he had hit the Pandora Gem and broken it….._

_But her friend had shaken his head. "Nothing much, chibi-chan. Just… never mind. Guess I need to get going now—" Hei-san (no, he had been the Kid then) had stepped out onto her balcony; there had been several clicks, and suddenly his cape had become wings, the hang-glider she had seen the first time he had come there…_

_"Hei-san?__ Someday can I go flying with you?" she had asked wistfully, hugging her arms tight around herself. "It looks like so much fun; I wouldn't be scared, I reeeeeally wouldn't—"_

_He had glanced back at her, smiling fondly as he adjusted his hat. "I believe you. You're a pretty brave kid, y'know that, 'Yumi-chan? Flying….. Heh; who knows? I wouldn't be surprised if you did fly with me someday. A certain detective I know might have a coronary, but I really wouldn't be surprised at all. Bye, kiddo; you take care of yourself."_

_And then Hei-san had then hopped up lightly onto her balcony and—_

_-**JUMPED**, and—_

_-**flown away**, just like a bird. Just like one of his doves, falling shockingly down and down and DOWN and then swooping up, up, and UP and off into the sky. With the cold night breeze stinging her cheeks, Ayumi had hung onto the railing and watched until he was no longer in sight._

_It wasn't until she had slid the door closed behind her that she remembered that she had forgotten AGAIN to talk to him about her new juggling stone….._

The stone in question lay inside her sock-drawer, safe and sound; Ayumi had stopped keeping it with her other juggling stones when she had realized just what it might be. Clear and smooth as ice, it was one of her favorite things to juggle—it fit nicely in her hand, it never seemed eager to plummet towards the ground like so many of the others did, and it was pretty; it even seemed to _smell_ good, ever-so-slightly sweet.

And she was pretty sure that it was the—what had he called it? The… _Panda Gem?_ Something like that.

_/Panda/_ Grownups were weird.

It wasn't the GREEN one, the one Hei-san- _/No, the Kaitou Kid, not Hei-san/_ She had to keep reminding herself of that—had smashed; it was the one that had (if she was right) popped out from inside it like a baby bird from inside an egg. She still had the green pieces of its 'shell', too; they looked like dark, dark green glass, and they fit around the clear stone like a jigsaw puzzle, minus a few bits here and there. She even had the silver setting—Hei-san had left it on her floor. Really, Ayumi had figured it out because of the setting, since she had been sort of playing with it and wondering if she could fit one of her other stones in there….. That had led to her poking around with the bits of green stuff, and THAT had made her sort through her juggling-stones, and—she had just worked it all out. And ever since then she had been more than a little troubled about the whole thing.

Was a magic gem still magic when it was broken? _WAS_ it broken? The outside was, but… And was it still stolen property if it wasn't what it had been anymore? She really didn't want to give it up; it looked so glittery, tumbling through the air over and over—

_/…but Hei-san said he had promised to smash it into bits…../_

_/…but it WAS smashed into bits. They're in my sock-drawer. I wonder if I could glue them all back together/_

_/……………What kind of glue should I use? I don't think they make magic-Panda-Gem glue…… and I wonder why it's called the Panda Gem? It doesn't LOOK like a panda…../_

Ayumi really, **_really_** wished she had remembered to talk to Hei-san about it, especially if he was going away for a little while. But, she supposed, in the meantime she could continue to use it as a juggling-stone. Why not? It wasn't like it was _hurting_ anything… And she'd put it away every night, back into her sock-drawer.

It'd be safe there.

The little girl sighed, staring up through the dark through eyes that glimmered with their own gold-washed light. Eventually they gave up the struggle and closed, and the room's silence was broken only by the even tide of her breath.

* * *

Elsewhere…

…in a darkened place full of computer screens and oddly quiet, busy people:

"Let's see those samples again… What parameters are you working with?"

Papers were shuffled. "The usual demographics—same age-group, local, non-familial relationships from age five on up; the subject's not employed, so that's out. We've added in the usual neighbors and so forth, but other than the Nakamoris' we're not coming up with a suitable target—"

"Mmm. Narrow it down a bit… try more recent relationships." Cold, intent eyes scanned down the lists of data. "This doesn't concern the subject's 'working' contacts at all, we know those; try visual contacts within the last three months on a frequency scale."

"Yessir, right- Here we go. Still pretty thin… Uh, I guess we could add in new surveillance group, the ones from the arcade, but they don't fit the usual guidelines at all—risky targets, too young. Should I add them in anyway?"

"Do we have surveillance data on any of them?"

"Some, yes. –recent dates, too, it seems. Interesting correlations... We don't usually go after targets of that grouping, though, do we? Too visible, too newsworthy, I—"

"Do you think Zakucho-sama cares about that at this point? And your job isn't to think. Add the grouping in and correlate."

"……………………….."

"Well?"

"……There has been quite a lot of contact recently, yes. Statistics indicate several viable targets, but—"

"But? I see no problem."

"………Jiro-san, in my opinion, choosing a target from this range would be—"

_"Your opinion is not required._ Any questions?"

"—No. No sir."

"Good. Forward the data to my files immediately. And contact the agents in charge of the subject's surveillance; we may need to arrange an acquirement very shortly."

"………….Yes sir. Right away, sir."

Machinery hummed. The dark place got darker.

* * *

"No, Kudo-kun. Definitely not."

"But Ai-kun, we can't just throw it out on the streets…"

"Mmph. I don't see why not—cats are supposed to be good at caring for themselves, aren't they? Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm in the middle of a rather delicate experiment—"

_"Mew?__ …MerowYOW?"_

"You've never had a pet before, have you, Haibara?"

"I hardly see where that has any bearing on the matter. And as I'm sure you both can plainly see, I'm rather busy right now—"

_"Mrow?__ ROWwow? …Mew… (Ahem) Mew! Mew! "_

"Oh, c'mon, Haibara… Look, he wants you to pick him up. Kind of cute, isn't he?"

_"Meeewww!__ Purrrrr!"_

"…………I'm not interested, and I'd appreciate it if you'd—"

"Really? Even though he's the Kaitou Kid's girlfriend's personal cat?"

"…………no."

_"Purrrrr?__ Purrpurrrrr? (Ahem) PUUUUURRRRRRRR?"_

"His eyes glow in the dark, you know—"

"Kudo-kun, _all_ cats' eyes glow in the dark. It's due to the arrangement of rods and cones in the—"

"No, not Spot's—Kuroba's. And from what we were told, the same thing that affected him—and his girlfriend AND Ayumi-kun, by the way—also affected this cat. You took a look at Ayumi's, didn't you? Of course if you're not interested I'm sure we can find a kennel to board it in until he comes back to claim it… or until it succumbs to kennel-cough or rabies or the mange or some other horrible disease. And dies in agony. In a _cage."_

"…………………..….."

_"…….mowowwr……"_

"Shinichi, that was _not _funny. Just because my father hates cats—"

"Ran, he threatened to sell it to a _furrier._ That goes above and beyond 'hating cats'—"

_"MRRYOW?"_

"………Hm; I suppose I could—"

"He would NOT have sold it to a furrier! He was just joking!"

"—that is, just for scientific purposes, I suppose I—"

"He was NOT. Of course, if that little white rat had used _my_ bed as a litter box right after it got there, I might have done the same thing."

_"Mrowf."_

"Hmph."

"Huh?"

"I was merely _saying_ that I supposed I could take the creature in for a few days, just to run a test or two."

"Tests?"

_"ROWWWnyoww?__ MROW!"_

"Nothing too stringent; blood work, perhaps a few biopsies and skin-cell cultures— Ah, Kudo? Your charge seems to be on its way out the window—"

After the dust had settled (and Spot had been cornered, caught and confined to the bathroom as the least-likely-place-to-be-shredded), the three faux gradeschoolers held a small council of war in the breakfast-nook over several cups of coffee and one bottle of mineral water (Ai's, of course). Professor Agasa was out for the afternoon, visiting a sick friend; _/It's just as well/ _thought Conan; _/I don't even know if he LIKES cats./_ A ripping noise from the bathroom down the hall made him wince; that had sounded remarkably like wallpaper being removed from a wall. Even if the professor did turn out to be an avowed cat-lover, it was likely he'd be less of one after he had seen Spot's 'redecoration'.

Rin was speaking. "—and we need to decide what we're going to do next, don't we?" She sipped at her mug of coffee, swirling it slightly; Conan fought back a faint grin as he considered that none of the occupants of _this_ table would every dream of saying something about caffeine stunting her growth… "Kaito-san is out of town for a few days, but—Conan, what did Heiji-kun say?"

The Detective of the East sighed, taking a long swallow of his own coffee. There had been not just one message waiting on the Mouri's answering machine when they had arrived home, there had been three; and then there had been the emails as well- "He should be here this evening," he said glumly. "And we'd better figure out in a hurry just how much we're going to tell him, or he'll take it into his hands to find it out himself. We do NOT want that." The messages had contained quite a few very inventive ways of dealing with Phantom Thieves, beginning with the soles of the feet and working upwards; just _remembering_ the one about the pair of salad-tongs and the five rubber-bands made Conan squirm internally.

Haibara was looking just a little mutinous. "I'm not quite certain why Hattori-san should become any more involved than he already is—" A distant wail and a thudding _crash!_ from the bathroom caused her to wince. "—unless perhaps he might be looking for a new pet…?"

The others ignored this as an unnecessary statement. "Heiji… Haibara, you know how he is; he'll poke and pick at the situation until he either figures out that we're working with Kuroba or comes to an entirely wrong conclusion, which will be worse. We're better off telling him at least the basic facts; and besides…" Conan sat his mug down, frowning. "…I'm more than a little worried as to whether or not he's made himself into a target." The eyes of the young woman/child in the lab coat flashed as he leaned forward. "Think about it. He was at the last heist along with that Hakuba guy; we already suspect that Hakuba-san's under surveillence, and both of them acted against the fake guards—okay, so it wasn't Heiji, it was the Kid in disguise, but do they know that? How do they know that Heiji-kun and Hakuba-san weren't working in complicity with the Kid? Just because they were found tied up on the roof…" The boy shook his head. "And Kuroba told me that he visited Heiji only a little while before the heist, and he goes to the same school as Hakuba-san; I'd say it's a pretty good bet that they're _both_ under surveillance at this point."

"What about Nakamori-san?" Rin looked troubled.

"What, that girl? She's gone on ahead of Kuroba to… hmmmm, he never did say where, did he? Damn."

"No, no, her father." The small girl fidgeted with the handle of her mug. "He had several prisoners; I wonder if he's interrogated them yet?"

Several thumps from the direction of the bathroom made them all look up for a tense second or two; when a lack of devastating destruction (or flushing sounds) followed, Conan's gaze dropped back to his coffee-cup. He swirled the dregs, kicking idly at the rungs of his chair with his short legs. "Hmm… here's an idea; why don't we set Hattori onto Nakamori? He was actually _at_ the heist, he even has a valid reason for talking to the police: those prisoners." The Detective of the East grinned a small, sharp grin. "One way or another I was planning on finding out the interrogation results—I can't wait to get my hands on those—but I'd much rather get them from Heiji instead of having to, uh…"

He shot a guilty look Rin's way; she returned it reproachfully. "…hack into Inspector Nakamori's files again?"

Wince. "…right."

"Kaito-san _IS_ rubbing off on you—"

"He is NOT." Coffee splashed onto the table as a mug was used as punctuation; somewhat sulkily the boy slid out of his chair to find a dishcloth and more coffee. "Moving right along… What about that other guy, the blond? Hakuba Saguru, I think his name was." Conan paused at the doorway to the kitchen, dripping slightly. "From everything I've been able to find out about him, he's no slouch at detective work himself—not up to Heiji or my level, but not bad at all. Sharp mind, and he's very methodical about things; could be a problem…"

"Why? If he has nothing to connect our identities to Kuroba's, he shouldn't concern himself with us. After all," pointed out Ai calmly, "we are merely children to all appearances; the only one among us who has had _any_ prior contact with Hakuba-san is you. That 'Golden Sunset Mansion' case, I believe it was? Unless he recognizes us from his surveillance of the arcade venture, the rest of us should be quite safely anonymous. With Hakuba-san, the only one who really should have any worries is you."

"Oh, _thanks,_ Haibara. You're all heart." Scowling at the very idea of any gem-grubbing, laughing maniac of a thief influencing _him,_ the former Kudo Shinichi twisted the coffee-damp dishcloth between his hands until it made faint squeaking noises.

"Think nothing of it." The small girl with the caramel-colored hair rummaged around in one of her customary lab coat's pockets and pulled out a notebook and pen. "Now, as for those prisoners… You do realize that _they_ certainly present a danger to the three of us, at the very least?"

Rin looked alarmed. "How? They don't even KNOW about me, and—"

"—and if they know about me, which is unlikely, they haven't made any moves. 'Kudo Shinichi' is dead so far as they're aware; let's hope they continue to believe that for a while." The aforementioned Kudo Shinichi sat back down again, having disposed of both the spilled coffee and his dishrag.

He took a deep breath; this wasn't going to be easy, but it needed to be dealt with. "There's something else we need to talk about, though….. something else that's been worrying me ever since this whole mess with Kuroba got started. So far as we know, the only one of us that the Black Organization really has any possibility of knowing about … is you, Shiho-kun. Correct?"

The reference to Ai's former identity had its desired effect, and the girl _twitched._ "Don't call me that."

He met her gaze evenly; the momentary antagonism faded just a little into sympathy. "Fine. But—those prisoners? Sure, if they know anything about you, the Professor may be getting a very weird phone-call or two from the police—I know he took care of getting fake records for you and everything, but what'll you do if they blow your cover? Disappear?" She said nothing, but her gaze dropped to the table for a second before rising again. "We're all in this together, remember, Ai-kun? You and me and Ran, Professor Agasa, Ran's parents, the kids, Kuroba and his girlfriend and so forth… If you take off on us, Haibara, you'll be helping them cut our throats. And we can't protect you if you run. And _that's_ what's been worrying me the most lately."

Haibara Ai's blue-grey stare narrowed dangerously but she kept her silence. After a cold little silence, Conan continued on. "You've been jumpy ever since the heist; I figured that that was because of the prisoners, and I was right, wasn't I? But this is part of what Kuroba's been working at all this time with his stupid thefts: irrefutable proof of the Organization's existence, even though he didn't know that it was them. We've been working towards the same goal, haven't we? And now we're closer than ever to exposing them… if we're careful."

"If we don't panic and run away, you mean."

Conan smiled, just a brief crook upwards of one side of his mouth. "That's about it."

"And… you think that **_I_** might." She said the words a little tentatively, like someone testing a sore tooth to see if it would twinge. "You believe that there's a possibility that I would cut my losses and run, Kudo?"

He said nothing, merely watched her with those too-sharp, too-knowing eyes. Rin sat beside him, silent and still.

Restlessly the girl slid down from her chair, turning away from them both to stare out the window; their reflections watched her clearly from the glass. "………….I see. However, I can assure you both that my panicking will not be a problem."

"Really?" Conan's tone was as dry as the Sahara; vultures were circling in it somewhere. "I'm glad to hear it." _And this is because?_ said those careful eyes, still watching. _You've panicked before at the very mention of the Organization; why not now?_

"Why would I run?" she asked simply to their reflected faces. "Where would I go? If they want me dead, that would only facilitate the process. And also… I'm not quite certain why, but this time I can't help but feel a little more hopeful than before. Perhaps it's because the authorities actually have prisoners in hand; or perhaps," (and she smiled at Conan's slight twitch of irritation) "perhaps it's Kuroba-san's influence. He does have a tendency to make the improbable seem slightly more—well, _probable,_ doesn't he?"

"…yeah, I guess you could say that." The vultures were still circling, but some of the desert in Conan's voice seemed to have developed a bit of grass. "So, now that _that's_ settled, why don't we start figuring out who we need to call first?"

Rin suppressed a smile and slid down from her chair to make some more coffee; they were going to need it.

* * *

Again, in a darkened place: a cold-eyed man dialed a certain extension. On the desk before him there lay a list of names, quite short, with detailed information about the subjects' ages, locations and habits. Research, he reflected to himself as he listened to the receiver, is an excellent tool.

_Click-click; buzz…… _"Zakucho-sama?"

_"Yes, Jiro?"_

"I have a possible target—several, actually—"

_"Their names?"_

"Ah—I should mention that there may be connections made if we choose to follow up on this; the targets are not within the usual range of choices, mostly due to age. They are all quite young."

_"That's of no concern; time is short. If nothing else they can be used for experimentation or possibly trained as agents later on, if they seem moldable enough. We can always use new bodies, one way or another, and if any of them actually turn out to be useful then we'll commence with conditioning. Their names, Jiro?"_

The cold-eyed man nodded to himself; 'conditioning' was definitely an option; it was better than the experimentation labs, at any rate.

Almost anything was…..

He shrugged the thought aside; "Yes sir. Beginning with the highest in verifiable contact-rate—" and began to read the list of the condemned.

There was always a use for children in the Black Organization, one way or another.

* * *

And, roughly a million miles away- well, alright, not a million, but it might as well have been, given the circumstances…..

…..someone was humming.

_"—dmmDMMM, dmmDMMM, dmmmDMMdmmDMMM-DMMM-DMMMMM- Dmm, dm-Dmm, dm DMM-dm-dm-dm DMMMM—"_

Several passengers glanced at the young woman in irritation; but the sheet music in her lap was apparently taking up the majority of her attention and the headphones she wore occupied the rest. One foot tapped in time—

_"—dmm-dmmmm, dadadadmdmdmmm, da-DA-da dmdmdmm, daDAHdaDMdmdmmm, dumdumdum DMM! DMM! Dadadada DMM! DMM! Dadadada DMM! DMM! Dadadada DMMMMMMMM—"_

A tired-looking businessman in a damp overcoat closed his eyes, obviously trying to ignore the insistent humming; two seats down, the musically-inclined young woman turned a page:

_"—dm DMMM da-da-DUM dmmmmmmmm….."_

The thing was (as one Kuroba Kaito could have explained had he been around, which of course he wasn't), what the young woman's fellow passengers would remember later on about her was her humming; it wouldn't be her face or anything else identifiable, it'd be her habit of humming and the presence of sheet-music. Of such details are police identity parades made… something which the Kaitou Kid knew quite a lot about.

But of course, he wasn't around, was he?

No.

The Tohoko Shinkansen (Yamabiko line, Hayate 21) had been traveling for a little more than two and a half hours, counting stops; it was with some relief that the young woman's traincar-mates saw her rise to her feet, shuffle her things into a semblance of order, and head sedately off onto the Morioka platform to smilingly hug the old man who waited there to greet her. If they could have heard him murmur "A hello-kiss is _not_ necessary, Young Master," as he adroitly dodged, they might have been confused; but as they did not it wasn't a problem.

Her rather large baggage collected, the musical young woman chattered with her Ojisan as he escorted her to a battered vehicle waiting in the parking-lot; and by the time she had left on her way, her fellow passengers had long since forgotten that she had ever even existed.

Two miles along the road—

"So, you think it's safe for me to change now?"

"I should think so, Young Master—and would you _please_ cease that annoying humming? It's very distracting."

"No prob." There were rustlings and the sound of a zipper or two. "God, I hate bras, 'specially the way the catch in the back itches—"

"Yes, well, I've found that when choosing undergarments for a female guise it pays to buy the ones with front-closures. So much easier to open one-handed, too, or so I found when I was a young man…"

_"Really?_ Heh… I'll keep that in mind; might come in, uh, handy. How long 'til we get to wherever we're going next? And where'd this car come from, anyway?" It was a four-door compact, not flashy but quite new.

"Oh, I have contacts here and there… and perhaps two hours or a bit more, it's been a little while since I came this way and the roads have improved. We'll be traveling north of Akita; there's a certain dock seventeen miles along the Peninsula where we'll board a fishing-boat which will then take us to—"

"-AACK-"

"…Young Master, you _must_ work on this phobia of yours. We do live on an island nation, you know, and fish are an important part of the Japanese daily diet. As I was saying, he will transport us to a dock a little further along the way, where we'll transfer to a somewhat larger vessel—yes, another fishing-boat, and we will be posing as fishermen, so… ahem. From there, we will eventually make landfall south of Aomori and travel north for a few hours by car again."

"Aaack."

"Yes?"

"Nothing, just getting it out of the way while I have the chance. God, I hate waiting… And after that?"

The older man sighed, navigating a slightly tricky turn. "After that? We will arrive at your ancestral estate around sunset. Your home."

Kaito was silent for a few moments; when he spoke again, his companion had to strain his ears to hear him. "My 'home,' huh? I've never even _been_ there, Jii; how can it be any kind of 'home' to me? Hell, I didn't even know I _had_ family until a little while ago." He chuffed a soft, sarcastic puff of breath. "They haven't exactly been very eager to meet me, have they? Home….. Since when did this place become my home?"

Jii's eyes flickered sideways, a sharp glance at Kaito's rather bleak profile. "Since long before you were ever born, Young Master. It's always been there, waiting for you to reach it… It's my home too, you know, even though I haven't resided there for many, many years. It always will be, no matter where I go." He sighed. "You'll understand when you arrive, or soon enough afterwards; I just wish you could have seen it as it was when I was a child, before the war…"

Trees whipped past, dusted with snow like white icing. "Why? Was it all that different?"

"Oh yes, very different. The Kuroba clan was so much larger then, with cousins and more distant kin living here and there about the estate, their children receiving lessons in both the Art and in more mundane pursuits, the servants and their families… My own family was—well, one might consider us similar to the _bushi_ the old samurai class; we have always directly served and worked with the Kuroba clan, from the days of Yogarasu-sama—"

"Who?"

"…Oh dear; you truly _haven't _been told any family history, have you? Not surprising, I suppose… The tale of Yogarasu-sama, I'm afraid, is something for your Great-Uncle to tell you; my apologies. In any case… the estate was a busy, well-populated place in my childhood; a wonderful place. Ehh; it all changed in a single day, though, when I was less than half your age."

"What happened?"

"A family meeting; it was held at one of the smaller holdings, away from the major estate for security's sake—a discussion of what precautions needed to be made, as fears that Japan would lose the war arose. Hiroshima had already been bombed; most of the clan attended, as did those who worked closest with them. It was a very important meeting, after all."

"…and…?"

"…and the date of the meeting was August the ninth, 1945. In Nagasaki it was, you see; I believe they would have just begun at about the time that the bombs fell."

The drive was very quiet for a while after that, until Kaito said softly, "How many?"

"Thirty-seven members of the immediate, distaff and supporting family line died in the catastrophe; and twenty-two servants and close associates, including most of my own relatives. It was… very hard. Your great-uncle and his brother were the sole survivors of their generation; the only reason that they were not there was that several members of the family, including myself, remained home with the flu. Otherwise… well. My parents, two elder brothers and a sister, the majority of the Kuroba clan—gone, all in a single stroke, and now the estate is silent where once it bustled with life. So much lost, so quickly... a flash of fire and thunder, and everything changed."

"…I'm sorry, Jii."

"As am I, Young Master. As am I."

They drove on for a while, then, without speaking. The landscape had changed as they went further and further north, growing colder and more wintry with every passing kilometer. After an hour or so had passed, Kaito propped his chin on one hand and glanced back at Jii again. "Uh, I've been meaning to ask you, Jii… How did Aoko's trip go? You got her safely to the estate and everything, right? No problems?"

The older man shrugged, a little smile hiding beneath his moustache. "No, no problems at all _getting_ there… As for her arrival and welcome, however, well….."

An eyebrow went up. "'Well'? C'mon, Jii, spill! How'd it go?"

"Eh… It was quite enlightening." Jii pondered for a second or so. "I must say, Young Master, you do have the most _interesting_ taste in women— Ahem. To begin with, there were several of the young lady's misconceptions to be overcome….."

_

* * *

"I just know I'm going to regret this," Nakamori Aoko murmured to herself, a little less than a day previously . "I know I will, I know I will, I just KNOW I will…"_

_"Hmm?__ Now, why would you think that?" Jii smiled reassuringly down at his charge. "I can say with complete confidence that you will be entirely welcome—"_

_The Inspector's daughter gave him a Look. They had just driven through the estate's imposing gates, and the young woman had been growing more and more apprehensive with every passing moment. She shifted in her seat, running a nervous hand through her wild tangle of hair (there hadn't been any time for much in the way of amenities on the drive there.) "Oh, of course I'll be welcome— as welcome as fire-ants at a picnic," she muttered despondently. "Jii-san, I'm a cop's daughter, and THIS is the home of an entire clan of professional thieves, isn't it? Why on earth would they welcome ME? It would be like—like—like chickens telling the fox 'Make yourself at home, and do you prefer white meat or dark?'"_

_The old man slowed down, taking a small side-road rather than the main drive; a smaller entrance (still quite impressive) awaited them at the front of an outbuilding, heavily obscured by autumn-bare treebranches. "I rather think that you're going to find the Kuroba clan to more resemble crows than chickens…"_

_"I—fine, but still….." The girl bit her lip, eying the traditional torii-style gate worriedly. "What if they hate me? Why WOULDN'T they hate me? My dad's been trying to lock two whole generations of their family away; don't you think that might put a damper on the hellos?" Her breath smoked faintly in the chilly air; hyperventilation time, and try as she might Aoko couldn't keep from fairly twitching with nerves. "This is a bad, bad idea, and maybe if we turn around RIGHT now we can find a nice hotel some place and wait there for Kaito—"_

_"Tsk; Aoko-san…" As he turned the engine off, the elderly thief shook his head. "And here I've had such faith in your courage all along- Did you tremble in fear when we were preparing for the Kid's activities last night? Did you flinch even once when you were up in the tower beside me, with a rifle trained on his adversaries? I—"_

_"Yes to BOTH questions!" Her eyes snapped with the angry fire that had always drawn Kaito so. "I was scared to death, but—"_

_"—but Inspector Nakamori's daughter takes after her father, does she not?" interjected Jii smoothly; it made her pause, and he went on. "Your father has always turned towards danger, not run away from it; I hardly expect anything less from you, Aoko-san." One bushy grey eyebrow quirked up. "...especially considering that you've managed to deal so aptly with Kaito all these years… You're experienced in, ahh, wild Kuroba-taming."_

_He came around and opened her door while Aoko thought about this, still quivering with anxiety. "'Taming'? If you can call chasing him around our classrooms twice a day with a mop 'taming', I guess—" Her feet slid a little in the thin rime of frost that coated the stones underfoot, and Jii steadied her by an elbow._

_"Have you ever thought," he commented almost idly, "that it's rather an interesting thing that he allows you to chase him? The Young Master is quite proficient in escaping from squadcars, the Task Force, helicopters and all the rest of the lot; he can vanish in a puff of smoke or simply avoid his pursuers whenever he wishes, even in his civilian identity; and yet somehow you manage to get closer to him in your own endeavors than anyone else." As she stared at him in consternation, the elderly thief chuckled. "And now, of course, you've gone a step further than that… One might even say that he allowed you to chase him just enough to justify being caught…"_

_"That's what my mama says, too."_

_The voice from overhead made Aoko jerk in startlement; she slid again on the icy pavement, only to be steadied once more by her companion. "Yes, and I wondered when you'd speak up, Mika-san." His tone was unexpectedly affectionate, and as they walked towards the gate and past the obscuring branches of the trees, Aoko blinked at the figure that perched above them._

_"What in the—"_

_Jii__ sighed. "Nakamori Aoko, please allow me to introduce to you the youngest of Master Kaito's cousins, Kuroba Mika. Mika-san? Manners…" _

_The auburn-haired young girl sitting casually on top of the gate-beam ignored this and stared down at them, eyes widening; she looked to be about ten years old or so, with sharp elfin features and a scattering of freckles across her thin, distinctly less-than-full-Japanese face. "You're….. wow….. You're REALLY Inspector Nakamori's daughter?"_

_"Um….. Yes?"_

_Another pause; then the girl swung herself down the pole onto the fence, hopped down like a monkey and tore off towards the house, shouting "Kaiji-nii! KAIJI-NII! He sent Ojikisama a KEIBU'S daughter! That's so cool!" She was out of sight before they knew it, and the old woman whom she narrowly missed as she shot through the doorway clicked her tongue in useless reproof._

_Aoko looked at Jii. "Is there—something I should know about?" she asked carefully._

_The old man seemed a little discomfited. "Not exactly… I think Mika-san has misread the situation. You see, it's traditional for members of the Kuroba clan to bring gifts when visiting, and, errr, possibly she thinks that you're a, well, a gift. For the head of the clan, you know." He offered her a hopeful smile, slightly frayed around the edges. "Past sons of the clan have offered their, err… future wives… as symbolic gifts…" Jii trailed off at Aoko's expression, edging away just a bit._

_The Inspector's daughter ground her teeth. "A… GIFT." She growled. "When I see Kaito again, I'm going to twist his—"_

_"Tch, is that any way to act? Young women these days… and you, Jii -san, what a thing to tell the poor child." The speaker was the elderly woman who had been nearly run down; wooden geta clacking on the stone walk, she made her way across the yard and paused to survey them sternly. Tall even in her age and with a lined face the color of old ivory, the woman's kimono was quite plain but of good make; an unusual mon of an interwoven feather design decorated the left breast. _

_/She must be Kaito's great-aunt; he didn't mention her, but where you have uncles you usually have aunts…/ Aoko bit her lip. /She looks awfully intimidating./ "H-hajimemashite… Kuroba-san?" hazarded the girl, bowing carefully. Beside her, Jii muffled what might have been a snort._

_Fine threads of snow sifted down from the sky as the woman peered at them critically. "Heavens, girl, I'm just the Touji, Izanami; most of the family calls me 'Nami-baasan. But welcome; come in, now, let's get out of this snow before you catch your death, dressed in those thin clothes." The self-proclaimed Family Housekeeper ushered them both in before them, bowing as Jii passed. "And it's good to see you again, Jii -san- you're looking well, for somebody who should have retired ten years ago. Been up to mischief in the city, have you? You're getting too old for that." Her sharp tone had taken on a note of affectionate scolding; Jii just looked resigned, although the points of his moustache were twitching. "One of these days we're going to be reading about you in the newspapers, see if we aren't, and it won't be due to fame or fortune, no, it won't. No, you'll be in the obituaries, sure as certain, with half the country trying to identify you and the other half trying to cover it up—" She shook her head, clicking her tongue. "And your brother's nearly as bad, with a double dose of good luck and a tenth the amount of common sense; you'll both come to terrible ends, mark my words…" _

_Shooing her charges before her like so many chickens, the Touji continued with her mild tirade as Aoko shot Jii a desperate, highly intimidated look. "Jii-san? Um, are you SURE it's to late for us to—"_

_"Chin up, my dear. You're in good hands…" He grimaced; "…probably. Almost certainly."_

_"-Jii-san?"_

_The Touji tsk-tsked.__ "What have you been telling the child, Jii-san? Never you mind, girl, just come this way and I'll see you settled with a room and some nice warm clothes, it's much colder up here than it is back where you came from." She paused in the doorway, eyeing the young woman, who blinked back at her in alarm. "And perhaps a hot bath too—you've been traveling all day, haven't you? And I'm sure you must be famished, so just a small snack or so before dinner, and then you can meet the family and tell us all about Master Kaito's latest escapades in __Kyoto__."_

_The last part of 'Nami-baasan's cheerful, rapid-fire comments made Aoko stop short; Jii ran into her from behind with a muffled grunt. "H-how… How do you know about THAT?"_

_The Head Housekeeper for the Kuroba clan looked at her and chuckled; it was nearly a cackle. Her old eyes gleamed in the failing light. "Oh, as to that… I AM the Touji here, girl; I know about everything that concerns the Kurobas."_

_"Oh."_

_The doors closed behind them._

* * *

"And she does, too," said Jii reminiscently to Kaito, as he took a turn down a side-road. "—know everything, I mean, Izanami does. I've never quite figured out how she manages it, but it was the same when she was a young girl." He shook his head and shifted gears carefully; winter fog was beginning to waft thickly across the road.

Kaito was leaning back in his seat, hands behind his head and eyes closed. His thin face was showing signs of fatigue, now that he was in a situation where he could relax and let the masks drop; waiting was emphatically _not_ his strong point, and the effects were visible. "Sounds like quite a character. Been there for a long time, huh?"

"Yes… She was born on the estate, just as I was. Her family's fate has also been intertwined with that of the Kurobas', much like mine; we were schoolmates when we were children." Jii stretched a little, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck; he looked tired as well. "They tended more towards the service and medical areas, though; in Izanami's case, she's been acting as a general medical surgeon for the Kuroba clan for quite a few years now." He cracked his knuckles as he maneuvered the steering wheel, one pop after another; they were loud against the quiet purr of the engine. "Your family has always been rather advanced when it came to education; at anywhere else during the time of my youth, a woman receiving training in medical techniques would be quite unusual."

"Mmph." The young thief's voice was sleepy. "Who's this—what was her name, this 'Mika' kid? She some sort of cousin of mine?"

"In a way…" Jii massaged the back of his neck again and stretched, trying to work some of the kinks out. "She is distant kin to your great-aunt's family, adopted into the Kurobas on the death of her parents; they died in an epidemic in India when she was very small. Mika was taken in by Kiyoshi-san and Nyoko-san; they would, I believe, be your aunt and uncle twice removed or some such."

"And her relatives didn't mind her being adopted? Mika-chan's, I mean?"

The older man took his time replying, with half his attention on navigating a tricky bit of road; they had at last reached the shoreline and the road was sloping downwards. "No, not as such. Your great-aunt's family is very similar to yours, though I believe they specialize more in information retrieval than actual physical theft. An old family, with many ties… Nyoko-san was Mika's godmother."

A yawn came from Kaito's general direction. "Sooo- Jeeze, I'm tired- what other cousins do I have to worry about? Or should I just chop my head off now and get it over with?"

His companion shot him a let's-be-serious-here look before turning his eyes back to the road. "Ehh… There's Rakaiji-san, of course…" His brow furrowed as he thought aloud, frowning. "He's a third cousin or so, a bit older than you, just graduated from university. He specializes in restorations and replications—one of the family's more, ahh, _legitimate_ pursuits, of which there are quite a few these days. After all, the Kurobas ARE required to pay taxes every year; lawful activities are very important." The grey-haired man glanced sideways a little uncomfortably; there were areas in which he could foresee possible clashes between Rakaiji-san and Kaito, but what could one do? A Kuroba was a Kuroba, just as a crow was a crow even if it had been hatched in a dove's nest—they'd just have to work things out.

He cleared his throat. "And then there's Higoine-san; you'll like her, I think. Fifteen on her last birthday, a direct cousin of yours—your father's sister's daughter, in fact—and quite talented, particularly with weapons."

"Weapons?" The younger thief yawned again. "What's she doing, training to be a ninja or something?" The lazy words were amused.

"No, actually; I don't believe that there's been a professional assassin in the Kuroba family for more than a century." A flash of Kaito's widened, gleaming blue eyes (would he ever get used to that?) made Jii muffle a chuckle; obviously his Young Master wasn't quite sure whether to believe him or not. "I've no idea what the young lady plans to do with her skills, but your great-uncle Kuehiko-sama has never been one to waste a talent, so... You have several other relatives as well, but at the moment I believe that the sole residents of the estate are Kuehiko-sama, his wife, and your three cousins—not counting staff and such as myself, of course. "

"Oh. Kuehiko-sama, huh? My great-uncle; and Mom never said a word about him, not even once….. Hey, Jii?"

"Yes?"

"…d'you think they'll like me? My relatives, I mean?"

"Yes, Young Master, I truly think that they will." _/After all/_ thought Jii wryly to himself, _/he's enough like them to fit in without a ripple, even with his upbringing. I think that he—and they—are in for a bit of a shock./_

But then, everybody had to start somewhere…

The two drove on in silence for a while after that. Small spatters not quite solid enough to be called snow but too frozen to be sleet began to cling to the windshield despite the wiper-blades' best efforts; the ocean to the east was a grey, foggy void, tipped here and there with small whitecaps and the occasional dim outline of a pier or boathouse. The ocean stood too shallow and rocky along this bit of coastline to allow for much in the way of large docking—for the most part it was desolate, and very few cars passed theirs as they traveled northwards through the cold, bleak day.

For his part, Jii was grateful for the silence. Some subjects—like the whys and wherefores of the Kuroba clan and their habits, activities and personal quirks—required more than a little thought as to how they should be explained. At least he wasn't going to be responsible for _all_ of that; no, that was Kuehiko-sama's business, as it should be. Kuehiko-sama was also going to have to explain just why Kaito's father had removed himself from all contact with the main family, and Jii most emphatically did NOT envy him that little chore. And lastly, Kuehiko-sama had given Jii some very, very specific instructions to be followed when the travelers reached the estate…

Jii glanced sideways towards his fellow passenger, whose breathing had finally evened out as fatigue caught up with him. Kaito sat curled a little sideways, one cheek supported by a hand; in the dim light he looked so much like his father had, spikey-haired and fine-boned, like a blackfeathered bird who had settled in on a branch to sleep…..

And now at last he was going home, whether he knew it or not. Kaito had _no idea_ what kind of welcome awaited him, no idea at all—not that the knowledge would have _helped_, of course, but—

Well.

The Young Master would manage, though, of this Jii was certain. Crows were crows, no matter what; and kaitous… were kaitous.

And Jii would be there to help, as much as he could—as much as he was allowed. But that was the problem awaiting Kaito on their arrival, wasn't it? Some things, the old man reflected, had to be done on one's own. Of course, he thought to himself as the car crested a hill and began to ease down the other side, in a little while that would no longer be a concern….

…at least, Jii amended, not _his_ concern.

_

* * *

Kaito was dreaming. In a somewhere-beyond-everything-else he could feel the vibration of the car as Jii drove; but in the depths of his sleep he dreamed and, rather surprisingly, he **knew** that he was dreaming and accepted it calmly. Usually, he thought to himself, you didn't know, did you? Not until you woke up, anyway. But this time was different; it felt different, it tasted different, it smelled different—_

_-actually, it smelled like a burning building. Tasted like one too, ash on his tongue, and the heat damn well felt like it was real. But it WAS a dream; he would have to keep reminding himself of that, especially perched on the very edge of an ominously-smoking rooftop like he was—_

_"Well, well… Such interesting places I manage to find you at, Kuroba-san; ne?"_

_-across from the woman with black hair and green eyes.__ She sat comfortably on a shabby-looking wooden crate, a line of someone's washing billowing behind her. Several of the garments had already caught sparks and were beginning to kindle, but she smiled at him as if they were seated in a café somewhere. "We have GOT to stop meeting like this," he told her with the calm of someone who knows that they can wake up anytime they want._

_(or he hoped so, anyway. He really hoped so.)_

_"Why?" Inhumanly vivid eyes sparkled with amusement. "It's a lovely evening; the night is young and so are we, or a reasonable facsimile at least—"_

_"Yeah, right."__ He looked down. The street below was crowded with shouting people, difficult to make out through the smoke. Where were the flashing lights—come to think of it, where were the firetrucks? Two cars, three, and they looked awfully boxy and funny-shaped- "No firetrucks yet; what's their problem down there?" And where were the cops? No uniforms, no helmets or-_

_"They don't have firetrucks yet, not in this era; just fire-wagons." The woman nodded at a clatter of wheels and hooves that could be heard above the tumult below. "And there comes one now." She fanned away a gust of smoke with one sleeve; incongruously enough, she seemed to be wearing a rather ornate furisode; embroidered cranes and chrysanthemums fluttered against the heat._

_"No firetrucks? What kind of place doesn't have any firetrucks?"_

_She glanced at him a little sideways. "A place three-quarters of a century before your lifetime, Kuroba-san. I never did explain about the dreams exactly, did I?" At his disbelieving look, she shrugged a one-shouldered, elegant shrug and tucked her hands inside her sleeves. "We are, at present—although the term loses a certain amount of meaning, as do words like 'here' and 'now' in this sort of dream—on top of a rather sad tenement building that burned down in Hong Kong in… 1909? 1910? Something like that. No electric lighting as yet, you see, and someone probably knocked over an oil-lamp; I don't think I ever heard what actually happened."_

_Kaito was regarding her through the smoke with raised eyebrows by now. The woman with the green eyes gave him an innocent smile. "Is there a problem?" When he merely crossed his arms and continued to glare, she shook her head. "We really should have a little talk about dreams, once you return from your family's estate; it would probably make you feel much better."_

_"Oh, really?"_

_"Well…" Her eyes glittered wickedly through the smoke. "Not better, perhaps, but at least more well-informed. You don't strike me as one of those who believe ignorance to be bliss."_

_The young thief scowled at her, settling back on the narrow ledge with his usual complete disregard for gravity; tiny motes of burning paper fluttered past like random, incendiary fireflies . "Not about anything concerning **you**, that's for sure—"_

_"Why, Kuroba-san, how flattering.__ And I had come to believe that you didn't care for me at all…"_

_Ignore, ignore; Kaito turned to peer out over the city. "No neon signs, hardly any cars, and JEEZE this place smells horrible—I always thought the world was less polluted back then. Why's it stink so badly?"_

_His companion carefully patted out a spark on her lap. "Because it's polluted. Coal-smoke, open tanneries and sewers, garbage-tainted water, middens… Just because the internal combustion engine was not yet a common thing doesn't mean that the air was much cleaner then—now—whenever—Kuroba-san. Progress just changes the nature of the disease, not the symptoms." She watched him lean far out and over, balancing himself automatically. "Kuroba-san? Perhaps we could get to the real reason for our meeting tonight, before the building burns down beneath us, that is? Please."_

_"Call me Kaito, okay?" he answered absently. "Whoa, look at that, bucket-brigade! __Lot__ of good that'll do…" He frowned down distractedly at the roof, which was beginning to make groaning sounds. "If we sit here much longer we're gonna turn into __Hong Kong__ style barbeque; shouldn't we be leaving? It's getting pretty smoky and I don't think I brought my glider with me." He looked down at himself and blinked at the white tuxedo and cape. "Or maybe I did at that—yep, got it, good—"_

_She shook her head. "The roof will be collapsing in a short while and then the dream will end, it always does… Ah, Kaito-san? The reason you're dreaming this—aren't you at all curious about what it is?"_

_He shrugged. "No. This is MY dream, thanks very much, and I'm not interested. If you want to talk to somebody about deep meanings and all that crap, go find another dream to do it in; I'm all out of introspection 'til the next shipment shows up." Now he was thoughtfully popping and recatching the release that would activate his hang-glider, eyes speculative as he turned his face to catch the wind. "Mmmm… We're high enough—four stories?— that I could get us to the ground without too much trouble; glider's no good at carrying two adults for more than a block or so, but we can make it that far—" He turned back towards her. "How much do you weigh?"_

_"Kaito-san….. Oh, very well; forty-six kilograms."_

_"Tiny little thing, aren't you? Aoko outweighed you two years ago." Pulling his hat and monocle from out of nowhere (and looking vaguely surprised at their appearance), he calmly put them on and stood up. An onlooker would have found it interesting, the way his stance and shoulders shifted as the Phantom Thief took the place of Kuroba Kaito in a white tux; Nakamori Aoko would have recognized the difference, and so would her father. "Hang on tight, please, and don't try to land on your own. Ready?" The green-eyed woman sighed, a resigned look on her face, but nodded as he carefully stepped around to clasp her from behind in a cross-armed grip. Smoke was billowing about them thicker than ever by now, heavy with the scorched-linen smell of the bucket brigade's work from below. _

_"Okay: one—two—THREE—" And with that they were off the building and—_

_-and down and down and down and swooooOOOP! as the glider strained to carry them both, joints creaking; the people shouting and jostling each other below did not even look up as they passed by, close enough that the wind from their flight should have stirred their hair—_

_"Weird," was all the Phantom Thief said when he brought them back to earth some ways beyond the crowd; not one head turned to look at them._

_"That's because we're not really here," said the woman in his arms, a little breathless, still clinging tight. "—well, you aren't, in any case. You know, that was rather delightful. Do you suppose we might try that some time when we're awake, Kaito-san?"_

_"Call me Kid, please."_

_"Certainly, though I do wish you'd make up your mind." She only had to turn just a very little to smile up into his eyes; he blinked at her from behind his monocle, suddenly aware of how closely he was holding her, and began pulling away—_

_-until with a twinkle of mischief, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him full on the mouth._

_"Mmphgl?__ MMPH…!" _

_The kaitou fell back against a lamp-post, brilliant blue eyes bugging out. "—wha—wheeeyow—why- Why'd you do THAT?"_

_"So you'd stop and listen to me, actually." The woman straightened her hair, looking remarkably smug. "It worked. And NOW, if you please, pay attention; we only have a few more minutes before this dream ends, and for once it would be nice to leave it in a painless fashion."_

_"Um."__ The thief still looked a little shaky. "How do you usually—no, that's stupid, this is a dream. People wake up from dreams."_

_She went on quite as casually as if he had not spoken. "In any case, what I wanted to speak to you about was your little apprentice, the child. Ayumi, her name is, isn't it?" Quite suddenly she had his full attention as the Kid's white form went ghostly still. "You've been working quite hard at keeping attention away from her, haven't you? However, there seems to have been an increase in watchers around her apartment building." At his stone-faced silence she clicked her tongue. "You didn't realize she was under surveillance? Tsk; yes, though mostly just coming and going from the building and at school. Your meeting-place at the park's been under watch for some time, but you no longer use that, I know… So silent, Kid-san? Ahhh… I see. You didn't realize."_

_The Kaitou Kid said nothing, though his eyes had taken on a frightening luminescence. Kuroba Kaito could allow himself to panic; the Phantom Thief did not have that luxury, and even in dreams their actions were not quite—quite—one and the same._

_Not quite. "How do you know all this?" he asked at last._

_The green-eyed woman sighed. "Did you think that they were the only ones with agents, Kid-san? Or that you had a moratorium on cleverness? I watch, Pyotr watches; and my children… they're everywhere, you know. Just as the Black Organization has its spies scattered like bits of soot across the world, my descendents are there too—everywhere: in shops and among the police, in the government and the schools… even among your classmates. Hadn't you figured that out, Kid-san?"_

_"But you know," she said softly against the rising noise of the crowd (there were screams and crashing noises now, mixed in with the snap and roar of the flames) "I didn't pull you into this to drag you bodily back to your home; I wanted to let you know that I was watching over your young apprentice as well… and to ask you a very important question, one that I did not ask you at our first meeting because I doubted that you would even consider answering me."_

_"…..What?"_

_"Where exactly is the Gem?"_

_He was silent._

_"Where is the Tear, the Pandora Gem? You've never said. I assume that, since you went to so very much trouble to acquire it, you've hidden it away somewhere quite safe—" She broke off her sentence, frowning slightly at the small choke of laughter that had issued from the Kid's pale figure. "If you have it with you at your family's estate, well and good; I can't imagine a safer place. However, if you've left it behind somewhere— WHAT is so amusing, please?"_

_For he was laughing outright now, without much sound to it; the laughter was more expression than anything else, and the expression was not a good one. "Your sense of timing, that's what. Where's the Pandora Gem? Broken into a million pieces and probably ground into a little girl's carpet by now, that's where—I **smashed **it, just like I promised I would when I started looking for the goddamned thing." The startling blue eyes were suddenly sober; he shook his head. "You know so much, Kari-san, but you didn't know **that**?"_

_Silence wrapped around them, a bubble of quiet in the turmoil of the smoky street. Oddly enough, the green-eyed woman did not seem overly perturbed; slightly amused if anything, but not perturbed. "Smashed; I see… and… what, precisely, did you use to smash it with?"_

_"The butt of my father's card-gun."_

_A muscle twitched at the corner of her mouth. "Where?"_

_The Kid glared at her. "Why should I tell y- oh, what the hell; you already know where she lives anyway, dammit. On the floor of 'Yumi-chan's bedroom, the night I got shot." The thief folded his arms. "Is that enough, or would you like me to get you some of her carpet-fluff to commemorate the occasion?"_

_"Tsk, tsk, tsk, my dear Kid-san; that temper of yours is going to cause you grief one day." She shook her head reprovingly, and now there was a small smile on her face. "So that's why the child has had such a potency around her; she must have found the Tear on her floor afterwards…"_

_The kaitou blinked. "Huh?"_

_"Ahh; you wouldn't know, would you? That stone—do you think you were the first to attempt to destroy it? Yes, 'attempt'—It's been struck by hammers, tossed into forges—and it was in an outlying suburb of __Hiroshima__, on a certain terrible day many years ago. What a time I had finding it after THAT….. but you see, Kid-san, there's very little that your—what did you call it, a 'card-gun'?—could do to something like the Tear. Oh, I'm sure that it shattered," she said as he opened his mouth in shocked indignation; "After I retrieved it from Hiroshima, I had it encased most carefully in a hollow emerald shell carved out of one of my own pieces of jewelry and replaced into the very setting it had occupied once upon a time several centuries past; it seemed fitting. That's when I donated it and several other valuable pieces to a museum, you know; museums have guards, and I travel far too much to be willing to look after the Tear myself. Too great a risk."_

_The Kaitou Kid stared at her, speechless; she went on airily, waving a hand. "But you needn't worry; I'll retrieve it and make certain that it's well taken care of—**aaaah****!"**_

_Shocked a second time, the thief nearly jumped out of his skin; the woman across from him had gasped and clutched at her shoulder. To his horror, there was a blackened patch there, spreading across the cloth; and with shaking hands she beat at it. She hissed with pain. "We're—ahh- out of time. Kid-san? I'd be obliged if you would please wake me up—"_

_"I- Wait, 'wake y—'?"_

_The green-eyed woman closed her eyes; her face tightened with pain, and droplets of perspiration shone in the smoky light. In the distance there was a crashing noise and the roaring of flames that have been given an opening to the sky. "Aagh- I c-can't do it myself, and I've already been through this fire too many times—it's the problem with dreams like this. Shake me, tap my shoulder, pinch me, anything, but just do it **now**—AAAAGH!"_

_This time she held up one hand as if fending off a blow, wincing; reddened blisters rose up briefly on her bared forearm, and there was a sudden lick of flame from her embroidered sleeve as the chrysanthemums there seemed to smoke. "NOW, KAITO-KUN!" _

_Darting forward, the Phantom Thief tried to smother the flames with his cloak; there was no effect—they rose through the fabric as if through their own smoke, and she cried out again in agony as they rose higher. **"Shit!"** He grabbed at the woman's shoulders and shook her hard; the flames wreathed around his gloves, but there was no pain at all, none. "Wake up! Wake up! Wake UP, dammit! WAKE—"_

* * *

"—UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE—"

…and Kaitou became aware that he was emphatically _not_ on a smoky street somewhere, shaking a burning woman; instead he was sitting bolt upright in a car, shouting hoarsely, with Jii beside him in the driver's seat. The older man was staring at him with the kind of look one gives a mental health patient who has somehow managed to get hold of a bazooka.

"……..uh……. g'morning?"

Jii continued to stare.

"…….sorry 'bout that. Are we there yet?"

The older man shook himself, visibly resetting back to his usual unperturbed-by-anything-the-Young-Master-does-no-matter-how-peculiar-it-is mode. "Ah, no, not yet. And it's still afternoon, actually." The car was not moving, although Kaito's sensitive ears could hear the pops and crackles of the engine as it cooled down.

_/Funny, I don't remember noticing those before. New sounds; gotta get used to that, right./_ Kaito scowled as whatever he had been dreaming about slid away like fog; there had been something alarming going on, something _important,_ about fire and Hong Kong (?) and the Pandora Gem…..

_/…and 'Yumi-chan?__ I can't remember- But it was just a dream; dreams are weird that way./_ "Where are we?" Kaito sniffed. Was that the smell of? His eyes widened. "Jii? That smells like, like—"

"Well, what else would docks smell like _but_ fish, Young Master?" the elderly thief asked reasonably as he opened his door. His passenger shuddered and made realistic retching noises, which his companion resolutely ignored as a matter of course. "There are appropriate clothes in the back; one moment—" They had parked in a copse of ragged trees beside what looked to be a disused boatlaunch; Jii busied himself by unearthing a hidden stash of garments that (to his horrified companion's nose) smelled strongly of mackerel. "Please put these on. Yes, I mean it. No, you can't change later; and believe me, I dislike this quite as much as you do."

_/Wonderful./_ Grumbling, Kaito crawled out of his nice, warm car-seat into the cold afternoon and began changing clothes. _/What the hell did I dream, anyway? …If feels like it might've been important… Fire, and somebody ON fire, and I was worried half sick about somebody else—/_

_-Aoko?__ Ayumi? Mom/_

_-Oh well; I'll remember later./_

A little while later, the sound of an engine's _puttputtputt_ brought a low-slung, disreputable-looking vessel along the shore; it picked up two scruffy, unshaven passengers without much more than an invitation to 'watch out where you sit, that damned Takeo-kun spilled the bait back in the stern' and the acceptance of a small amount of money—the boat apparently acted as something of a shoreline taxi-service, taking fishermen to their respective jobs. Their fellow passengers (no less scruffy) shifted to make room for the two, and they were on their way.

"What about the car and my stuff? I NEED the things in that cello-case—" muttered Kaito sideways, not moving his lips.

Jii answered likewise. "They'll be taken care of. Don't worry." And with that he had to be content (or as content in the presence of fish as was possible, which wasn't very).

It took seven stops at various docks before they switched boats; the second one was better equipped and looked less likely to sink at any second and made better time than the first. Fishermen were picked up, dropped off, and no-one spoke very much; this was the night crewage, getting ready for the long late-hours run, and most of them hadn't been up very long anyway—they yawned and scratched at their faded clothing, smoked and stared glumly out at the fog and kept pretty much to themselves, for which Kaito was grateful.

_/Surly bunch; I bet they hate fish too./_

As the grey afternoon light began to fade, the last passenger got off and they were left with the three-man crew. Jii glanced at his watch and then up at the stolid man who seemed to be acting as captain; a nod passed between them, and the boat picked up speed as it skirted the shoreline. "Excellent," muttered the elderly thief. "We should be right on time." Kaito arched an eyebrow but forebore asking; arranging things was Jii's job, and he was good at it—those 'contacts' of his and everything.

'Right on time' apparently meant arriving at a dock innocent of boats just as a familiar-looking vehicle arrived on the landward side; Kaito's other eyebrow slowly rose as an individual that was easily as scruffy-looking as any of the crew slid out of the driver's seat, tossed the keys to Jii, and clapped him on one shoulder as he climbed past them into the scow. "Good t'see you back, Jii-san; say hi t'yer brother for me, will you?" was all he said, but a gap-toothed grin wrinkled the man's bristly face before he turned away.

_/Huh./ _And Kaito wondered, just a little, how far Jii's network of contacts stretched…..

The clothes that they had changed out of were still in the back, along with a pair of bentos that smelled wonderful; changed but still smelling faintly of fish, the two dug in greedily before continuing on through the snow-dusted roads. The scenery was even craggier now; small villages whipped by here and there, and passing cars grew fewer as the daylight slowly failed.

And Kaito grew more and more—well, not _nervous,_ not as such, of course; magicians (and phantom thieves, for that matter) weren't allowed to get nervous unless people were pointing implements of destruction their way. Nope, he wasn't nervous, not at all, even though he was about to end up meeting a chunk of relatives who he'd never seen before in his life (very weird), who were apparently just fine with the idea of his being a thief (extremely weird), and who (grand champion weird) seemed to be in that line of work themselves. And in the meantime, more waiting…..

Nervous? Him?

_/And Aoko's with 'em, too, and she's probably been talking about me. To my freaking relatives. My RELATIVES. And Mom's probably been showing around my baby-pictures, including the bath-tub ones, which I swear to God I'm going to burn one of these days. Nervous? HELL YES I'm nervous. I'm going to have a heart-attack; I can feel it coming on right now: Eeeeeeeeeeee…/ "_Jii?"

"Yes, Young Master?"

"Are you _sure_ they'll want to see me? I think this is a really, really, really bad idea. Hey, why don't we just sneak in, grab Aoko and Mom and then head back home—? Jii?"

"………"

"No, huh?"

"No. And besides which: we're here."

**"…Oh…"**

The car rolled slowly to a halt, and Kaito stared…

…at stone walls that stretched either way, left and right for ages. _Tall_ stone walls, with carefully-fitted caps at least three meters up; what looked like discrete (but sharp) metal points embedded at their apexes glittered in the milky sunlight. Beyond them, dark fir trees hid any rooftops that might have otherwise given a hint as to what lay beyond. One thing, however, caught Kaito's eye: an incongruous, bulky object, fluttering shinkansen-tags against the stones.

There was no gate. "What gives? And why's my cello-case sitting out here?" he asked, though he was beginning to get a clue—

Jii sighed, lowering his head for a moment before taking a deep breath. "It was removed from the trunk earlier, while we were at sea; you may find that there have been certain additions to your gear….. Please get out of the car, Young Master." Frowning, Kaito climbed out and closed the door behind him. It was chilly; he tugged his jacket a little tighter, looking all around at the kilometers of craggy countryside and not much else that surrounded them.

"Well, Jii?"

The older man turned to stare at the grey stones for a moment before turning back towards the young thief. When he spoke again, slowly, his voice had the distinct sound of someone else's words, quoted back with great care—something _old,_ something that had been worn smooth with repetition. "Kuroba, son of Kuroba of the Clan of Kuroba: you have been brought to your home. But whether or not it is your home is up to you, not to those who wait inside the gates. There are five doors that welcome the traveler home; can you open them all, as your ancestors did before you? Can you rise up to greet your clan, a crow among crows?" His voice changed a little then, dropping the formal tones. "In short, I've been given instructions to tell you this and drop you off here, Young Master; you need to find your uncle, but I can't give you any hints or help beyond what I've just said." Jii shrugged, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, but that's how it's done."

Kaito stood hugging his arms close around him against the chill. His face was thoughtful. "…A riddle, huh? Somehow I'm not exactly surprised. So—what if I _can't_ open these 'doors'?"

Jii said nothing for a moment; then he shook his head. "Then, in the eyes of the Kuroba Clan, you are not your father's son."

Silence; nothing spoke except the wind, ghosting through the fog.

"…but… Young Master? If there's anything in this world that I'm certain of, it's that you are just that: Kuroba Toichi's son. And I wish very much that he could be here with us today, to see you coming home."

The elderly man's face was averted, just a little, just enough. "Be careful; I'll see you when you find your family." And with that, Konosuke Jii rolled his window up, pulled back onto the road, and drove away without looking back.

Behind him, his Young Master stood watching until the red tail-lights had been hidden by the drifts of fog.

"………right…………"

_/No more waiting. That's good, at least. God, I **HATE** waiting/_ Kuroba Kaito stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, considering the situation. _/Right, lessee….. Aoko's in there, Mom's in there, all the rest of my 'clan' is in there with 'em. Jii's on his way to join them, I'd bet money; and this is a test. I've been given a riddle; they want to see if the Kid—no, if **Kuroba Kaito** can work it out. Nobody's said word one about the Kid yet, have they/_ Hands still in pockets, he glanced up.

_/Those are awfully tall walls./_

_/…but not all THAT tall.__ And a hoard of Kurobas can't be nearly as bad as the entire __Tokyo__ Metropolitan Police Force, can they? And Aoko's waiting for me, too……./_

_/…..and I wonder if anybody besides me noticed that today's Halloween? I dunno, but somehow I get the feeling that it's just my lucky day. Heh./_

A little smile banished all traces of nerves from Kaito's face as he squatted down beside the cello case, flipping open the first of the series of catches (visible and hidden) that would allow him access to his equipment. It felt so _good_ to be doing something besides running—

_/Aoko's waiting, your mom's waiting, your so-called family's waiting. They all know what the Kaitou Kid can do, don't they? So get your ass in gear, Thief Boy, and let's show them what Kuroba Kaito can do as well./_

_Click-click-cliiick-click-SNAP._ The smile widened as he flipped open the case and began to form a plan…..

_

* * *

Buzzz__… buzz…. Clickclick._ "—Jiro here—" 

_"I have considered your list. Acquire subjects One and Four from the list as quickly as possible, Jiro."_

"One and Four? Understood, Zakucho-sama. And the coverup—the usual sweep-and-burn? I can initiate a fire in One's apartment building when the other subjects are visiting; it shouldn't be a problem to dispose of them in the confusion…"

_"No, not yet.__ Children vanish all the time these days; we may find uses for the others as well. You will be informed. Move."_

"Yes, Zakucho-sama."

_Click.

* * *

_

**_  
Ysabet's_****_ Notes:_**_ Wheeeew…… Tough chapter to write! My apologies for taking so long to post it; what with the holidays and a nasty bug and other nonline-life-stuff, this one took ages longer than most. Also, you might notice that it's somewhat shorter—not even 15,000 words this time! That's just how it felt it should be—I write the chapters to fit the story, not the other way around, and now that the action's going to be moving quicker, they'll probably be about that size (19 or 20 pages printed out; believe me, I know)._

_Sooooooo__…. I've opened a few entirely new cans of worms here, haven't I? Heiji and Hakuba and Ai and the prisoners and the family…. I feel so evil! I'm having so much fun! And I've already written a chunk of the next chapter, to be titled 'History'….. Hopefully it'll be posted a lot quicker than this one was._

_Oh, yes, one more thing, for amusement's sake: To the Second Wind reviewer who wrote the following badly-written review: "_the story line is good, but your chapters are too f-ing long it takes me a fing hour just to read one chapter yes im using the f word if you dont like it then feel free to delete my review because i dont give a D." _If you should happen to read Windfall, please feel free to go elsewhere to find shorter chapters; you won't find them here, and I will continue to write precisely the length and detail within my chapters that it takes to tell the story. This chapter was not made somewhat shorter due to your review; the decision had been made three weeks ago. That's all, end of comment. Oh yes, and please also feel free to grow up. Jeeeeze…_


	20. History, Part One

**_Chapter 20: History, Part One_**

_"A thief is a king 'til he's caught."  
__----- Persian proverb_

_Y'know, I think this is what you call being between a rock and a hard place. Where the **hell** do I start?_

The Kaitou Kid—that is, _Kuroba__ Kaito_—squatted on the ground, staring thoughtfully up at tall stone walls. It was sunset on October 31st (Halloween had timed itself quite appropriately, he thought) and the walls seemed to be looming taller every moment. Not that this was a problem, of course; he had climbed much more difficult things without a scrap of gear.

No, they were just goddamned intimidating, that was all. But hey, challenge was what he lived for, wasn't it? It just made life all that more interesting—

_--why oh WHY do I think I'm gonna remember that thought later and regret it?--_

--and besides, Aoko was behind those walls somewhere. And his mom, and Jii, and a hoard of relatives he had never met before who had some explaining to do about why the #$! they hadn't shown up even once during his whole life, if they were so big on the whole Thief Thing. _Following in my dad's footsteps would've been a lot easier if I'd had a little familial guidance,_ Kaito grumbled to himself crankily as he began rummaging through his cello-case. _I mean, Jii's always been there for me since Square One, but a little extra advice now and then would've been— hello? What's this?_

Something in the cello-case had just gone **_'clink'_**

_'Clink'? Clink? My stuff does NOT go 'clink.' I'm a GOOD little Phantom Thief, I pack things right. Cello-cases don't go 'clink', so I pack my gadgets not to either--_ Sliding one cautious hand beneath the remarkably-realistic-and-obligatory-cello (doubling as a fairly roomy inner packing-case), his fingertips encountered something that shouldn't have been there. _Huh… Jii did say I'd find a few additions--_

Carefully he tugged what seemed to be a small silk bag out into the failing light; it was black. The contents were tipped out onto the cold ground, where they lay glinting enigmatically back.

_Coins?__ No, not coins--_

Brass, five of them, strung on a black cord through the hole in each one's center; they _could_ almost have been five-yen pieces. The young thief picked them up curiously; four of the five were old and worn, but the fifth was as shiny and clean-edged as if it had just been minted. One side of each was occupied with a _mon_ a Japanese heraldic device (this one seemed to be of four feathers following each other in an overlapping circle); the reverse was marked with a single kanji, different for each 'coin.'

_Lessee….. Uh, 'Ishi', that's the one for stone; 'Hi', that's fire… and 'Misu', 'Kane' and 'Ki', water, metal and wood. These are marked with the Asian elemental symbols. What for? What the hell am I supposed to do with 'em? Jii, you COULD have given me a few hints--_

_--wait. He **did** give me some hints. Think hard, Thief Boy, just what exactly did he say…?_ He scowled down at the string of 'coins', muttering out loud. "…Kuroba, son of Kuroba, blah blah blah, up to me, blahdy blah, five doors that welcome the traveler home, can I open them like my ancestors did… 'rise up to greet your clan, a crow among crows'… that's a clue there, no doubt about it, watch for crows… And then he stopped quoting, but he said 'Sorry, can't _give you any hints beyond what I've just said.'_ So they WERE hints." Kaito made a horrible face at the stone wall surrounding his family's estate. "Throw a dog a bone, why don't you? Don't you people _want_ me to come inside? I'm housebroken, I promise…" He settled crosslegged on the icy ground, staring at nothing and thinking very, very hard as he slid the discs back and forth on their cord; they chimed softly, a small sound in the gathering dark.

_Okay, let's take stock… The five elements, the 'Gogyou'—Stone, Fire, Water, Metal and Wood. Five doors, so there's probably one per element. Crows. –and 'rise up', he said 'rise up'… Could that be a clue? I remember reading in Ancient Lit class that the elements fall in a particular order, based on what sort of amounts to a specific gravity; how did it go?_ Absentmindedly he slid the coins off their cord, dropping them onto the earth before him; Kaito's blue eyes glittered with their own light as he peered down at them, rearranging their order with a fingertip. _Stone's the first, 'cause it's what everything else rests on. Metal's next, because you find the ore inside stone… and then water comes next, because metal can't float unless you count bath-tub toys, outboard motors and really small bowls….. And then there's wood, because it DOES float, and then there's fire, the only element that flies. Lightning and the sun and all that, yeah. Stone-Metal-Water-Wood-Fire. And the 'Fire' one's the new-looking piece, all the others are really old; why?_

_Five doors, five coins, four of 'em worn, one of 'em new.__ This place is old, I'm new to it, and that supports the idea that Fire ought to be last if the doors should match the elements… so I should probably go through them in the order of the Gogyou-- Stone-Metal-Water-Wood-Fire. That is, if I plan on playing by the rules--_

Kaito paused momentarily, his eyes widening in abrupt realization. _You know, I'm not exactly going against the usual opponents here; this might even be worse than going up against Kudo—these are my relatives, and they're… like me. Like ME. THEY don't play by the 'good guy' rules, they play by the same ones **I** use, which means that--_

_--Ooogh. THIEF rules. PHANTOM thief rules, the kind that I like best. Which means that they've probably set up the kinds of traps, misleading info, false trails, tricks and so forth that **I'd** set up. This could get really, really interesting, in a possibly-permanent kind of way._

_And **THAT** means that I don't need to hold back, **do** I?_

_… oh… yeah…_

A slow, beatific smile crept across the young thief's face as that sank in; it was the smile of someone who finally, _finally_ had gotten the chance to cut loose a little. How often did THAT happen, after all? When you were trying to stay on the side of the angels (while acting as Nakamori and his Brute Squad's personal devil), you had to… cool it, just a bit. The only times he had _really_ been able to let go had been against Kudo, and unless things changed drastically in the near future that was now out, because it would make 'Yumi-chan cry and Rin-kun would kill him and the scary blonde girl would probably experiment on the pieces that were left over after Kudo got done dancing triumphantly on them. So—

_--so this just might be hell of a lot of fun, if it doesn't kill me. Depends on what kind of sense of humor they have—I can't have gotten it ALL from Mom. We'll see._

The smile widened; Nakamori would have recognized it, and it would have given him twitchy bad dreams. Beginning to whistle beneath his breath, Kaito leaned forward to continue rummaging through his cello-case.

_Lessee; I'll probably need one of these, and one—no, two—of these….. oh yeah, and a couple of THESE…

* * *

__But elsewhere, far away yet not quite far enough:_

"We're all here? Good; let's get started. We don't have much time."

Crowded into a small office of the Metropolitan Police headquarters, several members of the city's finest were busy putting their heads together over a map and a list of data. Coffee cups littered the desk; folders teetered here and there on the edges, just waiting to spill their contents all over the floor at the push of an unwary elbow, but the three busy men and one woman paid little attention to the clutter.

_(They had more important things to think about)_

"—daily routes between school and home seem to be fairly regular, with minor deviations to visit each other's residences. Do you think you two can handle the pickup?"

_(and it would do a person's heart good to see the police working so hard)_

"No problem; our best bet would be to separate them on their way home and work from there. If there's too much of a struggle, we can always call for backup, can't we?"

_(with so much concern for the common good, so much concern for safety, so much concern for the law)_

"Of course; we'll be in radio contact at all times. This has to go down perfectly; I don't think you need to be reminded of the consequences of failure, do you?"

"No… It'll be easy; kids trust cops. Especially _these_ kids."

_(so much concern—)_

"Good. You know where to bring them. Be sure any witnesses are dealt with, and I don't mean by payoffs this time. No loose ends."

_(so much concern—)_

"Got it. Piece of cake."

"It had better be. Screw up and you're dead—we _all_ are, and I don't plan on dying over a couple of brats."

_(--such a great deal of concern for the law.__ A pity that that concern was mainly about how to break it.)

* * *

_

"Oh, look," muttered Kaito to himself, fingering a coil of rope and tying a knot in the end of it. "A very conveniently-placed pine tree, really really close to the wall. Betcha I could make that lowest branch in just one jump, too….."

"…..if I were a freaking _moron,_ that is. 'Conveniently-Placed Tree' is pronounced 'TRAP' in my personal vocabulary. It probably explodes if you touch it, or catches on fire, or…" He frowned, grateful for his odd night-vision; something about the texture up there, not on the limb but on the bark of the trunk a few feet above it…. "Bingo. There we go." It could have been anything from some sort of pressure-sensor to a trip-wire—he couldn't tell from here—but he _could_ see the thin, tiny thread of a noose that seemed to be resting on the branch itself. _So, an intruder would climb this tree and trigger the noose by steadying themselves against the trunk, huh? Or maybe there's a weight-gauge on the branch. If it were me, I'd set up multiple triggers… hmmm, yeah, but not just on the trunk; I'd set 'em up on the ground beneath the trunk, on the trunk itself, on the wall BY the trunk, and on the branch itself._

_Sure is a good thing I'm not one of the bad guys, isn't it?_ With a grin that bordered on the demonic, Kaito considered the little noose.

_Betcha it's pretty strong, too; it'd have to be. Now….. if I were stupid and in a hurry, I wouldn't have found that trap at all. But if I were clever and in a hurry, I might have found it and tried to bypass it. But y'know, I'm clever and NOT in a hurry, not really… because I'm a phantom thief, and like I told Aoko, a phantom thief'll chose __midnight__ to make an entrance if given a choice. And this IS Halloween….._

(A pair of supple, thick-palmed leather gloves were extracted from a pocket and put on)

_…..so I think instead I'll do this instead--_

Witnesses (had there been any) would have reacted to the following events in a number of ways. If, for instance, they had been of the Nakamori persuasion (male), they would have sworn out loud; if they had been a certain shrunken detective, they would have narrowed their eyes and taken notes. And if they had been Hakuba, they would have done _both_ activities, but in English instead of Japanese. As it was, there weren't any witnesses to watch Kuroba Kaito as:

a) He began climbing the tree with exaggerated care, placing each hand or foot with conscious intent. The tree responded with tiny clicks and whirrs which would not have been audible to normal human ears. Then...

b) As he set his foot down with deliberate firmness _on the edge of the noose,_ he dropped to a crouch, hands outstretched to either side.

c) There was a **_TWOIIINNNGGGGG!_** and the noose was yanked upwards—

d) -- and he grabbed onto the noose's line with one gloved hand, balancing himself with the other as he calmly rode the noose up into the tree and over the wall—

_(Heh; perfect!)_

--only to drop lightly onto the ground three meters or so above where he would have been hanging (if, as he had thought, he had been stupid and in a hurry). Still grinning, Kaito looked up at the empty noose in satisfaction. "Way to go, Thief Boy," he congratulated himself softly out loud; "Nothing like using somebody else's overconfidence to—"

_…..click…… cllliiick-CLICKCLICKCLICKCLICK….._

The sounds were coming from the ground beneath his feet. And from the bushes over _there_ and the wall right _there_ and the rocks over _there_ and—

"SHIT!" He dove sideways in a flat skid, eyes wide. **_THWIP!THWAP!THWIP!THWIP!THAACK!THWIP THUD!THWUMP!_** Matt-black, rounded _somethings_flew overhead at several levels, cutting through the air where Kaito had been; they thudded among the shrubbery with heavy thumps, one of them skimming right past as he came to a halt.

_Rocks?__ ROCKS? Who the #$&!'s throwing ROCKS at me?_ Smooth stones larger than his fist bounced among the underbrush, clattered dully against trees; bark flew, splinters flew, and Kaito flew as well, scuttling across the shadowy ground back towards the doubtful shelter of a nearby clump of trees. He swore; the stones were still flying—they seemed to be coming from someplace low on the wall—so he bounced off the tree trunks, heading horizontal and fast to try and stay below the barrage.

_Okay, this is an old place, right? Old-fashioned defenses straight out of a ninja movie, next thing you know it'll be armed samurai and some sort of magician or maybe arrows--_ He rolled sideways, dodging a ricochet. _--if this was a movie, which it damned well isn't, which means either my movements triggered the attack or somebody's watching me-- ?_

_Oh._ The barrage of stones had abruptly stopped. Covered in leaf-litter, flat on his face on the ground, one of the young thief's eyebrows rose as he raised his head a fraction. _Now, what d'you suppose caused THAT to happen? AM I being watched, or what? If this really is an old-fashioned, ninja-type trap, then we're not talking motion-detectors or infrared-beams or….._

_……wooooooo…….._

He hadn't expected _that._ Kaito lay very still, not even twitching, and stared at the invisible.

Anyone who has watched a relatively recent spy-thriller or James Bond movie has seen them: a grid of thin, infrared threads of light. The hero (or villain, or villain's unwitting-but-skillful henchmen) usually makes a production out of digging out the techno-goggles and then carefully (or not so carefully, if the plot calls for it) easing their way around or over or beneath the grid. Break one little beam and there's usually hell to pay. _Kaito_ had seen them often enough, both in fiction and with his own set of infrared goggles… they were a fairly common security device.

He just hadn't expected to see them being emitted from pinpoint-holes in an ancient stone wall. For that matter, he shouldn't have been SEEING them at **_all_** considering the fact that no goggles were currently in use. But… there they were, delicate little hair-lines of magenta-ish light, just this side of visible and silently crisscrossing an area about a half-meter above the ground—

_Fine, okay, it's just one more freaking weirdness with your eyes; don't have a conniption fit, Thief Boy. Calm down. At least it's a USEFUL weirdness. –Oh, and so much for the 'old-fashioned ninja-type traps' idea. Looks like my relatives are right up there in the technological field; don't know if I should be annoyed or proud of 'em… 'Overconfidence'. Yeah. Kuroba Clan Rule #1, As Observed By Kaito: " The Kuroba Clan rates at least an 8 on the Weirdness Meter; therefore all assumptions about how they'll act will probably be wrong. Plan accordingly."_ Kaito warily lowered his head and began to inch sideways. The way he figured, the gridlines were probably of the sort that required more than a second's worth of blockage to set them off, or falling leaves would be a problem. And really they weren't a _grid_, they were too irregular, spaced to cut between trees and boulders and so forth; there were gaps. The first thing he needed to do was to get out of range….. _and__ that little gap over there looks like it just might be wide enough to slip through. Good thing I'm so skinny._

And then what?

_And then we'll take a look over—THERE._ Despite the tension of the situation, Kaito snorted with laughter as he slid on his back towards his goal._ Nice of the family to make things easy for me in that area at least… Of course, being able to see in the dark is a big help. I wonder what they'd think of that if I told them? I wonder if I will?_ At least, if all the trials that he expected to have to get through had finish-lines as clearly marked as this one, then that was ONE worry out of the way; a large, squarish chunk of weathered rock stood out prominently from the wall only a few meters away, and carved into its surface was a kanji which (if he remembered right) matched the 'stone' symbol on one of his brass discs.

_Cool. _He scooted along a little further. Almost there--_ Now__… if **I** were a sneaky, underhanded bastard of a professional thief with devious habits and **I** had the chance to design something like this, what would I do? Well, duhh… I'd booby-trap the symbol in some way that wouldn't be set off by touching it, but by touching something around it. _Kaito peered at his goal; no more infrared lines (and _DAMN_ but that ability was going to be useful in the future; suddenly he was feeling a little more charitable about the Pandora Stone and its effects), no obvious nooses or strings, nothing to indicate pressure-traps or anything else that might make his life interesting in the near future…..

Still, though.

_Since I AM a sneaky, underhanded bastard of a professional thief (well, not a bastard; my parents were married), I'm going to go with Kuroba Clan Rule #2: "If you don't see it, it's probably there." How would I do it? _Kaito scooted a little closer, scowling at the ground. His peculiar new vision made it look—well, not precisely like there was light shining on it; seeing in the dark wasn't like that… It was more like the darkness was still there but just no longer an obstacle to making out details. Oh, and there weren't any shadows, because everything was already in shadow….. so the edges were cleanly delineated, texture showed up a little less, colors were different but oddly distinct…..

_…..aaaaand……. there—right there, right on the ground at….. __three__ o'clock__five o'clock__, and….. about __eight o'clock__. Flat, smooth bits; betcha those are pressure-sensors, they're not the same color as the rest of the rocks. Wonder what they'll do?_ Keeping well back, he bit his lip and looked around to the left and the right and up—

_Ah. NASTY bunch of kinfolk I've got, don't I?_ That looked distinctly like a net up there, bunched up but on some sort of trigger in the trees right above the design on the wall. And, higher up above it….. _that_ looked like another net, but not the kind that would be used to for containment; this one seemed to be full of more rocks.

_So, you step up all hopeful and ready to get the hell on with things, trigger the pressure-sensors, get yanked up into the air by a net, and then have rocks dropped onto you. Stunned and bagged and ready for delivery… nice and neat. Somebody please remind me why having relatives sounded like a good idea…?_

Very, very carefully, the young thief pushed himself a little further along; he was only a meter away or so from the infrared-light gap now, and with all of his senses he scanned the rest of the area as he gathered his legs beneath him in a very flat crouch. _This'll have to be quick. I'll need to jump through the clear space, run like hell for the wall, miss the sensors, and—how do I use the coin? Mmm… looks like there's a little round hole in the rock, right below the symbol; I don't see anywhere else to put it, so I sure hope I'm right._

_Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place-- Are we ready, Thief Boy? I guess we are. _

He moved.

* * *

_And once more, close by and yet not quite f—well, let's not say 'not quite far enough away', shall we? It's rude. One might even consider the location worthy of the name 'The Peanut Gallery':_

"Wow…. Look at him GO! He's really fast, isn't he?"

"**#$&!** How the hell-- How's he missing the sensor lights? _WHY_ ISN'T HE TRIPPING THE SENSORS--?"

"Rakkaiji-kun, please moderate your language, we _do_ have guests; _'Evil words corrupt good manners,'_ a Dutch proverb. Oh, he seems to have caught his foot on a trigger-wire… Was that your one of your suggestions, Kuehiko my dear?"

"No, that one came from Jii, I think; pan the camera to the left, please. Shunmei, Jii, how strong a dose of gas-grenades did you two set up?"

"Not that strong, Koshu-sama— I'm sure the Young Master can handle them without a problem."

"Look, look, he's getting right back up! YAY! And he's got the coin in the wall and the wall's opening up and _THERE HE GOOOOOES! _Aoko-san, he's pretty cool, isn't he? How'd he know about the sensors? He couldn't see the lights, so—"

"Lights? What lights?……. Do you mean those little red crisscross line-things?"

"……………………………"

"……………………………"

"….Aoko-neesan? How come YOU can—"

"………………………………….…..um… Where's he going next, Mika-chan?"

* * *

Well. _THAT_ hadn't been so bad, when you thought about it objectively. Kaito leaned against the cold stone of the passageway that had opened up _inside of the wall itself_ and panted, wiping away cold sweat.

The unexpected gas-cloud had been kind of rough; he had felt his toe catch on a wire and cursed even as he stumbled, but it had been too late to do anything other than hold his breath and grope blindly for the place where the coin went. _And it's a damned good thing that I DID guess right about that, or my ass'd be grass by now,_ he thought, muttering unkind things beneath his breath about anonymous great-uncles who had really warped ideas about how to welcome stray kaitous back to the flock.

And speaking of flocks…..

Kaito peered at the opposite wall, clicking on a small flashlight out of habit; _Yep,__ thought that's what I saw._ Anybody else would have required a flashlight to see the carefully-painted black birds flying across the stonework, all moving in one direction. _Crows.__ I was supposed to be on the lookout for crows, right? So I guess I know which direction I should be going—as the crow flies, so to speak._

Four coins to go. What was next? 'Metal', wasn't it? And then water, and then wood, and fire at the last… Feeling remarkably like some brain-dead adventurer in a Dungeons-and-Dragons scenario, he set off down the corridor.

Dank stone, dark and occasionally mossy; there wasn't much to see, even with eyes that pierced the shadows as easily as Kaito's did now. Every now and then he would glance to one side or another and catch something scratched onto a block, usually just a name and a date… They went quite a ways back, if he was reading right; and the names….. _There aren't enough of them to be JUST the sons of the Kuroba clan; and besides, I'm pretty sure some of 'em are female._ He paused for a second, wondering; there were a lot of drawings of birds, too, all of them flying in the same direction. Was something else expected of him here? Maybe HE was supposed to draw one as well?

_Heh.__ Sorry, I'm just not too good at doing the expected thing._

And so he stopped long enough to sketch a small, carefully-accurate depiction of a grinning Kaitou Kid on a hang-glider, and signed it with his name—Kuroba Kaito, _not_ '1412'—in glow-in-the-dark paint-marker. Stepping back, Kaito grinned; there it was, proof positive of his identity in writing for anybody who came that way to see…..

_Namori-keibu'd__ sign a contract with the devil to own that brick, wouldn't he?_ Stifling a snicker, Kaito continued on.

It was very, very quiet within the passageway; the occasional drip of water or scuttle of mouse-feet in the darkness, nothing more than that broke the silence. Kaito's footfalls, of course, were silent. After a hundred yards or so he glanced up at a particularly neat-looking brick jutting out just above his head, grinned to himself, and clicked off his flashlight.

_Ah; thought so._ The thinnest, tiniest thread of red light crossed in an angle from the brick to the floor: a motion-detector. _Betcha that sets off an alarm somewhere… and I bet I'm being watched. I FEEL like I'm being watched. 'Kuroba Clan Rule #3: Being paranoid doesn't mean that you're wrong—it just means that you're catching on.' I wonder how many cameras I can find and disable?_

It started out as a game, and he kept playing it as such; after a while it became remarkably simple to spot them. The motion-sensors usually were within a meter or two of a lens, and a little sticky-putty from his pack (usually used to attach things as needed during heists) worked well enough to black out each one. After the sixth camera had been located and thoroughly puttied, Kaito regarded it with a rather evil grin. _I wonder if I'm pissing anybody off with this? Oooh, I hope so…

* * *

_

_"#$&! _I worked for THREE SOLID HOURS checking out that camera system yesterday— and he was GRINNING, dammit! I'm going to poison his fricking tea the first time we eat together—"

"Potty-mouth."

"Shut it, Twerp!"

"Ojikisamaaaaa! Kaiji-nii's SWEARING again! You said that **_I_** can't swear, so _he—"_

"Children, unless you BOTH settle down and mind your manners, you won't be allowed to watch."

"……………………………….."

"………………..I'm not a child anymore, you know, Ojikisama. And I just want to know how on earth he's _doing_ that. Right, fine, he's this world-reknowned fancy famous Phantom Thief and all that, but he shouldn't be able to just, just………. _What_?"

"Rak_KAAAAIJIIII_-nii's _JEEEEAAAAA_Lous, Rak_KAAAAIJIII_-nii's _JEEEEAAAAA_Lous —"

_Twitch, twitch. _"Keep it up, Twerp, and you're going to find out what a toilet looks like from the inside, head-downwards—"

"CHILDREN. _Last warning._ The next rude remark will lead straight to two days' worth of scrubbing the moss off the roof-tiles. Am I understood? And you will _not_ 'poison his tea', either. Kaito-san's mother and Higoine-kun will be joining us soon, and I'm sure you're both upsetting Aoko-san."

"Oh—Aoko-neesan, I'm sorry—"

"Um. My apologies, Nakamori-san, it's just that—"

"Oh, don't worry; he always happens to people like that. But he's still…. Well, he's…. you'll see. Just wait until you actually MEET him….. you'll see."

_Sigh._ "I'm sure we will."

* * *

_Okay, fun's fun, but I'd better get moving._ Kaito regarded his work on the last of camera with a smug little grin before moving on. He didn't bother to look for any more of them; the point wasn't to block them all, it was to make it clear that he _could._ Wasn't that the whole point? He sure hoped so. Also, he didn't mind an audience in the least. What phantom thief would?

And… well….. he sort of hoped that Aoko was watching, too.

_Yeah..._

It wasn't much longer before he came to his next obstacle; and Kaito scowled at the mass of rubble and stone that blocked his way. "What the hell?" It wasn't a cave-in or anything; the ceiling overhead was intact, as were the passage-walls. "So… this was _brought_ here," he muttered to himself. Why? "The question," he murmured aloud, "is just exactly what's being tested." His gloves went back on as he carefully examined the rocks.

_Mmph__ Just rocks, far as I can tell, and damned heavy ones—no trip-wires, traps, gas-grenades, sharp thingies, triggers, lions, tigers or bears… nothing but a bunch of rocks, keeping me from going any further._ A quick once-over of the surrounding area proved to show no exits, either; and there was another scattering of birds painted on the right-hand wall, flying straight into the rubble. Clearly he was meant to go on.

Kaito heaved a sigh. Whatever was being tested, it wasn't anything to do with cleverness or skill; resolve, maybe? Or maybe they just liked to see him sweat….. _Oh well. I probably did something to deserve this, anyway… or I'm going to do something that I'll deserve this for. Whatever. _So he set to work moving what proved, yes, to be damned heavy rocks.

_I hope it's worth it--

* * *

_

"Determination, dear? Perseverance? Or simply pure, pig-headed stubbornness?"

"Well, yes. And I wanted to see how much time he would waste looking for a hidden exit. Hmmm… seems to be fairly strong; but wasn't he wounded recently, Aoko-san? I heard from Jii that he took a bullet in the shoulder—"

"….Um……… He heals fast, Kuehiko-san. Really, really fast."

"Oh? Does he?"

"…yes…"

"Hm; good, good. He'll need that."

* * *

"Rrgh! There!" Kaito wiped a dirty glove across his forehead and glared at the tiny glint of a camera-lens in the corridor ceiling behind him. "I hope you guys are satisfied." The pile of rocks had become distinctly lop-sided, allowing a view of what looked like—surprise! nothing other than corridor, corridor and more corridor beyond. "Great," muttered the young thief, picking up his pack and dusting himself off—

--and then he paused, sniffing. _? What's that? Smells like…. smoke?_

Well, where there was smoke, there was supposed to be fire… and that was one of the symbols on the 'coins': fire. Of course, metal was the element that was supposed to come next, but—

_--but it won't hurt to go take a look-see, will it?_ Curiosity won out and, frowning a little, Kaito carefully slid through the gap. _Yeah—smoke. Strong, too, and something else, something like… tar? No, not like tar; something else, something familiar. Something that reminds me of… railroads… trains? Trains, no, yes, something like that…_ He scratched absentmindedly at some dirt on one arm, unaware that he had raised his head and was sniffing the air like a dog. _Trains… smoke and trains, but the Shinkansen doesn't smoke at all, it smells sort of electric. Trains? Smoke? What kind of trains make smoke--?_

_OLD trains! STEAM trains! And steam locomotives are fed with coal. And that's what I'm smelling… it does smell a little like tar._ One of Kaito's most cherished childhood memories had been of a trip he and his parents had taken a few years before his father's death; they had ridden the Mo'oka Tetsudo—the Mo'oka Steam Railway—when he had been six, and even now the scent of the thick coal-smoke came back with startling vividness as he inhaled deeply. _Why would a dank, dark tunnel inside a wall smell of coal-smoke? If I still am inside the wall, that is… this thing's done a lot of gradual curving; could be anywhere by now._

_But… a train?_ And the smell wasn't _quite_ like that….. Slowly he walked along the uneven passageway, drawing in deep, slow breaths as he went. The tantalizing, thick scent was coming from-- _--there. HAH! Either my relatives have really weird rats tunneling through their walls or there's an opening…_ (careful fingers probed and slid across stonework) _…right… about…. here._ With a grating noise, a chunk of what looked like regular blocks slid back, allowing a small gap to show; some tugging, and the grinning thief stepped forward to slip through—

--only to pause, just for a second, and look over one shoulder. A moment's search produced the location of yet another camera-lens (this time it had been mounted in the eye of one of the ever-present painted crows, something that made Kaito chuckle in appreciation). He surveyed the small bit of gadgetry, grinned, and produced the paint-marker he had used before; a few quick strokes on the stonework, and…

_There.THAT ought to earn me a mop upside the head later on, but it'll be worth it._ The small, carefully-drawn heart with **_'Kaito + Aoko'_** glowed smugly at him from the stones, and he grinned back at it in return. But then, just for a moment, his expression softened into seriousness… and into something else: another expression, one that had as much of the Kid's infamous Poker Face in it as it also had a kind of self-mockery. The cap of the marker came off again; and a second heart was drawn, right by the first one:

**_'1412 + Aoko too.'_**

"There," he said softly, and turned back to the camera. "Hi, Aoko," Kaito whispered—and waved once, before going on through the panel into the smoky darkness beyond.

* * *

"What a terribly interesting young man… _both_ sides of him, apparently. I'm so glad we're related; otherwise he'd have to be considered competition, wouldn't he, Kuehiko? He rather reminds me of you when you were younger. _'What youth learns, age does not forget', _a Danish proverb."

"Why, thank you, Ariake my dear. Though I have to say, it's a good thing that both of his, err, identities share the same tastes in young women. Otherwise it might get a bit difficult, eh, Aoko-san?"

**"!"

* * *

**

_"Beyond"_ was a smithy; a forge, a blacksmith's workplace, a big, smoky room that stunk heavily of scorched metal and coal. Kaito slipped silently out of the space in the far wall, blinking at the hazy air and the heat; after the chill of the stone passageway it was stifling. He carefully slipped the 'metal' coin off its thong before replacing the loop back around his neck and beginning to look around.

"Weird," murmured the young thief as he warily approached the main construction in the dirt-floored room. He scratched his head; he had _heard_ of these, but… It was what had once been used to smelt metal out of ore, a big hollow cube of heavy bricks with an open top; nearly as tall as he was, the thing radiated heat as if it was angry. _Lessee; you light a huge fire inside one of these, then hollow out the coals and heap pieces of ore in the middle, right? So the metal melts out of it and drains into the bottom, and—yeah, there's a little chute on the side where it runs out of. Crude but effective; the clinkers end up at the bottom, the pure metal flows out the chute, and the chimney overhead--_ (he shaded his eyes from the fire and peered upwards; there was some sort of hood-like formation up there, rising through a high ceiling that seemed to be made of peculiarly irregular brickwork ) _--draws the heat and smoke away. Nice work, but I wouldn't want to be a smith. Messy place, too; somebody left their tools lying around. _There were pliers and tong-whatsits propped against the sides of the forge and a really HUGE hammer lay balanced precariously across a very large anvil.

Blinking up at the smoky, spark-ridden hell of the chimney, he frowned; was that some sort of –no, he couldn't quite make it out; a scrawl, drawn against the brickwork high up where the smoke rose into blackness. Maybe if he squinted a little harder he could see it…?

No; not quite. Almost, but…. never mind; he had other, more important things to think about. Kaito stuffed his hands into his pockets and glanced around. "Right," he murmured. "So—where's the metal, hm?" His gaze took in the racks of tools, bin of scrap-metal, the large pile of what was probably ore (though he wasn't sure; they looked like just another pile of dirty rocks to him, and then and there he resolved that whatever he spent the rest of his life doing would not involve moving around large amounts of dirty rocks), the old-fashioned anvils lined up along one wall, the tongs and pokers and what were probably smith's gizmos but looked like particularly complicated instruments of torture—

It was about _then_ that he felt the first drop go past his cheek.

**_THAT WASN'T WATER!_** Kaito danced backwards with a yelp, recovering his balance instinctively. It had been _HOT,_ hotter than the stifling air and even the heat from the forge, and it had barely missed him. The smell of newly-scorched earth rose from underfoot-- _"__#$&!"_ --as very hot, very _things-that-weren't-water-either_ began dropping randomly all around him. _"SHIT SHIT SHIT!"_ the thief hissed in pain at a graze along his upper thigh; "WHO THE HELL THOUGHT OF THIS?" he yelled at the ceiling.

The ceiling replied with more hot drops of what, he could now see, was molten metal; it was falling through a scatter of gaps in the brickwork overhead. It splatted in dirty silver bursts as it struck the cooler ground below.

No time for subtlety or phantom-thiefish silence NOW, that was for damn sure. _Gotta find the metal symbol thingy, gotta find it OWW! **SHIT!** _Another drop had landed on his foot. Kaito looked wildly around for shelter, and grabbed up a piece of the scrap-metal. None of the fragments were larger than half a meter or so, but they'd help in a pinch…

_SPLAT! SplatSPLATsplat! _"OW! GODDAMMIT, _OW!"_

…unless the drops got more frequent and heated the sheet-metal, which they had just proceeded to do. And they weren't doing his feet any favors, either-- Okay, this was BAD juju; he needed out but fast.

_Metal-symbol-thingy, metal-symbol-thingy OWW! where the hell is the--_

_--**there**--_

_No, waitaminute-- Ah, **SHIT!**_ …..it wasn't the right symbol. Not that he had the freaking _time_ to look at the coins on the cord around his neck, but he was virtually certain that the design that was now _glowing_ from high above in the chimney was the one for _fire,_ not metal. But hey, any port in a storm, right? and if he scrambled up the side of the forge, he could—

--the smoking, fiery, _extremely hot really really deadly_ forge, the one he'd have to climb ABOVE if he was to reach the design. Oh, you wouldn't want to even think about making any kind of mistake whatsoever with _that_ thing, would you? There weren't many handholds, they were all going to be unbearably hot, and below was a pool of molten metal death. RIGHT below. Right directly below, waiting for him like a hungry mouth… and if he was wrong…

_…no…_

_It feels wrong. It feels WRONG. _And he based his life as a phantom thief on things feeling right: the flip of a card, the toss of a coin. This was not good.

Kaito hesitated. There were molten drops of metal falling all around him and his improvised scrap-metal umbrella was starting to make his gloves char… but he hesitated. Swearing in language that would have made even Nakamori-keibu's eyebrows raise in appreciation, he twisted around wildly, sweeping the forge and taking in every detail possible. It wasn't a large room—metal scraps, _check,_ tools, _check,_ forge, _check,_ pile of ore, _check, _falling-death-from-above, _check,_ anvil, _ch__—_

_Oooh__ **THERE!** Son of a bitch--_

Without hesitation he dove forward, hand outstretched through the painful, deadly rain for the handle of the large hammer that lay across the anvil; from its face the engraved kanji glinted back at him, bright as fire in the smithy's volcanic light: _metal, metal._

GOTCHA!

One hard yank, and the thick-headed hammer plummeted off the anvil towards the floor (nearly taking his arm with it; the #$&! thing was _heavy)_; there was a sharp CLICK!-CLICK!-CLICK! as the anvil rose ever so slightly. A faint clatter announced the arrival of something—a small piece of stone?—which was extruded from one side of the forge, falling noisily to the floor. Kaito stared, breathing hard and trying to make sense of it; the hot, terrible rain was still falling, and the chunk of stone that had dropped was… round? And about as thick as a pencil, sort of like a coin made out of rock—

**"#$&!"** His hand shot out—

The tiny _ca-chak!_ that followed was one of the sweetest things Kaito had ever heard as he shoved the 'metal' coin into the gap that the chunk of stone had left behind. In one side of the forge a narrow gap opened up, stone sliding aside; with another curse, the young thief dove through it and was gone.

* * *

"…Wow….. He swears a lot, doesn't he, Kaiji-nii?"

"Hmph. Not bad."

"—oh God oh God oh—"

"Please relax, Aoko-san; those drops of metal were pewter, the most they could cause were second-degree burns; if he had become injured, we had several people on hand to pull him from the room and into medical care _very_ quickly. I know that it looked quite frightening—"

"FRIGHTENING? What if Kaito had tried to go up the chimney? If he fell, he'd have been k-k— he'd—"

"But Aoko-neesan, we knew he wouldn't do anything like that, 'cause we knew he'd see the hammer and—"

"—Aoko-san, they're right, you know; the Young Master would not be so stupid as to try something so obviously deadly as that. He'd never allow himself to die is such a flagrantly stupid way. It would be unprofessional."

"Jii, I don't understand you, you're his _friend—"_

"Yes, I am. And that's why I know that this ordeal _must_ be undergone by the Young Master, just as it has been by every Kuroba who has been raised outside the family. He _must_ go through these trials, as his father did before him."

"His—his father?"

"Yes—shh, now, please don't cry, Aoko-san; I know it's hard, watching like this, but it will be fine, trust me; and trust Kaito. Trust his skills. And yes; his father Toichi was raised outside the grounds of the estate for the first fourteen years of his life; when he came to visit his family for the first time, he too went through something very similar. I know; I was there."

"D-did you say _fourteen?_ He was just a _boy _when he--?"

"Yes. And I helped to devise some of the tests that he dealt with, just as my grandfather had devised them for _me_ several decades before. Those of us who accompany the family outside are also tested, you see. We seldom fail… but still—"

"……That's just… horrible. How many people have been killed because of this stupid test? What kind of family IS this?"

"—Excuse me, everyone? Please step back a little; I believe I should answer the question, as a non-Kuroba who married into the family, and I believe Aoko-san and I could use a little privacy in which to talk. Thank you. …..Aoko-san? Aoko-san, _look _at me, please. When I married Kuehiko, I was told about the test; and I was appalled. And when our oldest child was to pass through it after being away at college for several years, I tried to have it stopped. But—are you listening Aoko? Please, this is important: After a while, I understood why the test was done… but _only_ after our child had gone through it completely. And I can tell you right now that your Kaito is probably very disgusted with the entire idea and ready to stop; he won't though. Do you know why he won't, why he'll continue?"

"N-no…?"

"Because **_you're_** waiting for him, just as we are. We aren't all that important to him, my dear; I know that. He was raised without the presence of his larger family, without even the knowledge that we existed—and there's a very good reason for that, by the way, but I'll leave it for his great-uncle to explain. Kaito will make his way through the trials ahead of him, just as his forebears did… and when he has finished, why don't you ask him if it was worth it? And ask him the reason for the test; I can promise, Aoko, that he _will_ have an answer for you by then… even if, right now, he does not. Can you trust us, just a little longer? Please?"

"I… don't know."

"Then can you trust him?"

"………………yes. But if he doesn't have a good answer for me when this is over, I want to leave. I want to go home."

"Thank you, Aoko-san. Just give us all a little more time; you'll understand, I promise, and so will your Kaito. Sooner or later."

* * *

"What the hell" asked the son of Kuroba Toichi as he leaned panting against a tree, "was all THAT for?" Sweating, he wiped his face with one singed and dirty sleeve and wondered why on earth he was where he was in the first place.

_I'm a phantom thief, right? I belong in cities, performing in front of a crowd or a few select detectives, short ones or those of the Nakamori persuasion preferably. I'm supposed to be luring the bad guys into a trap where the whole Black Org thing gets exposed, not dancing like an idiot to some stupid tune of my family's. Hell, I didn't even know they existed a little while ago—and that was just **fine with me.** So what am I doing here?_

_I'm running around in circles. No, I'm being led by the nose around in circles, chasing dreams. I don't need this. I don't need ANY of this._

Kaito closed his smoke-reddened eyes and rubbed at them, hard; they stung harshly, and his hair was sweat-soaked and full of ashes. Burns (or the memories of them—they had healed with uncanny speed) made his muscles twitch until, with an effort, he controlled them and became still, listening. All around him the darkened garden that his quick exit from the forge had brought him to lay silent, if you didn't count the chirrup of crickets, the shush and rustle of leaves, the distant gurgle of running water…

He could still smell coal-smoke; and most of it was coming from _him._ "What am I doing here?" he whispered aloud to the night.

Those last few moments in the forge….. That had been bad. Why had it shaken him so much? _Maybe, _Kaito thought bleakly with his eyes still closed, _because it wasn't the bad guys doing it to me; that was my family. Even Jii; he's in there too. The rocks and all, they weren't so hard to avoid; if they had hit me I would've been bruised, sure, but… I dunno. This one rattled me. They're not really playing, are they?_

_This isn't a game__. I haven't been really taking it seriously so far, but I guess I'd better. If, that is, I want to go on with it at all._

_Goddammit, I am getting PISSED OFF._

Kaito swallowed hard; he could still taste the gritty coal-smoke in his mouth. Water—

The sound of water led him to the left and into the trees; a tiny thread of a stream trickled from a hole in a chunk of stone and dropped into a carved basin beside a bench. It tasted good, felt wonderful on his hands after the gloves were pulled off; and the chilly clarity of it chased some of the smoke from out of his head as he sank down on the ground beside the bench to think.

_Fine, Thief Boy.__ Let's treat this like any other heist and look at our options, okay? First off: Why Are We Doing This? And the answer is: Because there's something at the end of it that we want. Okay, Mister Wizard, what's that? Gee, I don't know--- maybe it's acceptance by our family? Well yeah, that'd be nice—I've been alone in this for a long time; not-alone sounds pretty good. What else? The Family Kuroba probably has resources that'll come in handy in taking down the baddies; could be. Might even pick up some allies, not that I can't go it alone if I have to, but… the 'not-alone' thing again. Interesting… Anything else? Hell, yeah: Aoko's in there, and Mom, and Jii. Mom and Jii may be related to the clan and all, but Aoko's not—she's the daughter of a goddamn police detective, for crying out loud; for all I know, they're giving her a bad time! So I need to find Aoko. And THAT means that we now have Sir Kaito The White Knight, off to rescue the Damsel In Distress from the Kuroba Dragons. Right?_

_…'cept that Aoko's not your usual Damsel In Distress, thank God._ He leaned back against the bench and grinned faintly up at the sky, feeling a little better after all. _I bet she's keeping the Dragons busy. And the funny thing is, we're right back to the 'not-alone' thing. It felt good, didn't it, having her accept you? Hell, it even felt good when Kudo and Company worked things out and ended up on the same side. Not-alone… isn't so bad._

_But I'm STILL pissed off._

_Okay, back to cases. Second Heist Question: Who's our opponents? Answer: Well, it's SORT of the Dragons—I mean, my relatives, and it's SORT OF whatever weird-ass tests they've set up for me. And if you look at it that way, it's sort of myself as well; if I get fed up or I get too badly hurt or I just can't work it out, then I lose and they win._

A leaf drifted down, spiraling into the basin; Kaito reached out and stirred the cold water with a fingertip. Overhead the clouds had cleared, and a few stars were peeking palely through.

_Third Question: What's the plan? How do we slay—or at least, out-trick—the Dragons?_

A fingertip in the water pushed the fallen leaf around, moving it against the liquid's flow; drops trickled inside, riding like passengers on the leaf until it slowly submerged. _Well, first off… we don't give up. This test's supposedly something that's been done before, right? All those names written in the wall-tunnel… I bet my dad's name IS there somewhere. What Jii said sounded like, I dunno, something traditional, something by rote. And y'know, getting fed up and discouraged… that could be a test too. So giving up means being eaten by the Dragons, not rescuing the Damsel In Distress, and being a total failure as a White Knight._

_Screw THAT. I don't give up, not even when the family whackos dump hot metal on me. I-do-NOT-give-up; nada, nyet, nuh-uh._

_Sooooo__… Fourth and Final Question: Is all this trouble worth the reward?_

Kaito leaned back a little further, resting against the bench and running a hand through his hair. His muscles ached, his clothes were torn, burned and dirty, he hadn't been able to use hardly _anything_ out of all the stuff in his pack, and right now he felt like an onigiri that had been roasted a little too long on the grill. And dammit, he shouldn't have thought about onigiri, because now his stomach was growling.

He sighed… not at the situation, not at his relatives, not really; at himself. It was so easy to get distracted sometimes—easy to forget the _real_ reasons behind things. Just sitting there doing nothing… There was a slow burn growing somewhere deep down inside him. He HAD forgotten, a little bit. And now he was remembering.

**_Stupid_**_ Not all that long ago you were rejoicing because you 'didn't have to hold back' anymore. You could 'let go' against your family, because hey, they were 'like you', right? Idiot. So either put up or shut up, Thief Boy; of course it's worth it. Aoko's waiting; betcha she's watching too. Mom and Jii are watching and waiting, and you KNOW they're on your side. And the Dragons? Just WATCH me, guys._ Kaito ground his teeth together, eyes narrowing as the slow burn spread and grew._ See, there's another reason for all this—there are LOTS of other reasons, but one in particular: **I want to know where you all were when my father died**. Why didn't you show up? Why didn't you help my mom out? Why, if I was supposed to follow in my dad's footsteps, didn't you train me? If my dad mattered to you at all, WHY didn't you try to find his killers and make them pay? Why did you leave us alone, my mom and me?_

_Bastards.__ Play games with ME, will you? I'll show you games….._

_Yeah. Those are good questions. It's worth it, to bring Aoko and Mom and Jii home, to get some answers, to maybe find some common ground with… my uncle? my whole family? Hell, if I can manage it with Aoko and the Short Brigade, this should be like stealing candy from a baby (not that I ever would). And isn't it interesting that I'm doing that 'not-alone' thing, again and again and again?_ Kaito's mouth quirked into something like a smile as he stared up at the stars, eyes glittering. "So get off your ass and get busy, why don't you? Baka," he murmured to himself, and did just that.

It was better than just sitting there feeling sorry for himself, anyway. And besides, the damp ground was making his butt cold.

* * *

"There, you see? He does look somewhat calmer now, doesn't he, Aoko-san? A little, at least?"

"…………………………."

"….yes?"

"I've seen that look on Kaito's face before… and, no offense, Kuroba-san—um, but…"

"Yes?"

"You've gotten him _mad._ And you've gotten him, well, he's not… do you know what I mean when I say that he's not playing with you anymore now?"

"Oh, _yes._ I know only too well; and that's precisely what I was hoping for. Rakaiji? He's up and moving; I believe that's your cue to prepare for your part in the next test."

"On my way, Ojikisama. Keep Aoko-san company, will you, Mika? I've got things to do, people to make trouble for…"

"Lucky. Betcha he makes trouble for _you,_ though, Kaiji-nii—"

"Not if I get him first, bratlet. Keep your eyes on the screens and just watch."

* * *

_Water.__ Water should be easy, shouldn't it? I mean, you can drown in water, but what else can happen? Uhh—you could get stabbed to death by icicles, I guess, but I don't see a lot of ice around, just a bit of snow here and there._ Kaito moved with utter soundlessness through the shadows of what had proved, once he had gotten a good look around, to be a small mock-forest of the kind rich people tended to have on their estates. It wasn't _really_ wild; the groves and underbrush were planted, the rocks and mosses carefully landscaped. But the trees were often centuries old, and the bamboo that rustled thickly in its groves could have come straight from a rice-paper scroll painting.

The young thief checked his watch; it was getting on towards nine p.m.

Frost as bright as stars crackled underfoot, the only sound besides wind and the occasional drip of water; Kaito was moving in Stealth Mode now, gliding rather than walking; and if his path took him off the path now and then, it was usually for a reason…..

Booby-traps. The wild garden was _full_ of them.

There were tiny wires; there were delicate little balloons full of this and that poised on the paths, resting on top of thumbtacks; there were triggers attached to switches and switches attached to triggers and gods-alone-knew-what, beneath bushes and dangling discreetly from branches. It was all very interesting, in a vaguely homicidal way….. One trap in particular caught Kaito's attention: an intricate little contraption involving a fine thread, a mercury-switch and what that was _probably_ some sort of gas-bomb, suspended a couple of meters or so above his head from a trailing bamboo-stem. It also, for reasons he could absolutely NOT understand, had what proved upon puzzled examination to be a…

…a _slice of zucchini_ attached to the wiring.

Kaito blinked, staring at the bit of green vegetable. _Uh.__ Zucchini? Zucchini? WHY is there a piece of zucchini on this thing? Uh—I guess it could be part of the…… No, maybe it's for……… Uh…….. No, that wouldn't work; so maybe the zucchini's supposed to….._

_…….I have **absolutely no** **idea. **WHY is there a piece of zucchini attached to the wiring?_

Baffled, he prodded the device carefully with a twig; the zucchini-slice merely vegetabled back at him silently. With a shrug, the young thief delicately disconnected the thing and examined it again. There seemed to be a brief delay-trigger on it if he was reading the wiring right, set to go off a couple of seconds after the thread broke; Kaito admired the tiny device for a few more seconds before tucking it inside his jacket, along with the mysterious zucchini-slice. Who knew, maybe he'd eat it later on for a snack if he really got desperate. Probably not, though.

_Somebody here knows their stuff, aside from having a vegetable-fetish. That time-delay's a good piece of work… I wonder if my great-uncle did it, or one of my cousins?_

He moved on.

* * *

"I _TOLD_ you the zucchini was a good idea, Ojikisama! See? That was MY idea!"

"Yes, yes, Mika-chan… but I'd like to point out that he _did_ take your little gas-bomb with him. And he hasn't eaten the zucchini yet, now has he?"

"Um… Mika-chan? What will happen if he eats the piece of zucchini?"

"Oh, he'll pass _right _out, Aoko-san. It's got LOTS of sedatives in it."

"That might be a problem, then… because Kaito hates zucchini."

"Oh. Damn."

"Tsk, MIKA-chan, what have I told you about cursing in public?"

"I—um. You said some quote about swearing… something about garlic?"

"Yes. _'Vulgarity is the garlic in the salad of taste'_, from Connolly. Do you understand what that means? If you are going to swear, you must learn something more eloquent than merely saying 'damn.' We can work on this later if you'd like."

"……..Eeew. MORE homework? But Obaasamaaaaaa—"

* * *

_Mmmmm__ traps. I just love traps; gives me that warm, fuzzy feeling inside to know that people are thinking about me…_

It was fun, almost, untangling the layered trip-wires and delicate little triggers without setting them off; and in its way, it was flattering. So much effort… and all for him, apparently; many of the traps were too hair-trigger to last for long out in the open before a bird or whatever set them off (with the result of some severely traumatized wildlife). None of the traps were really _lethal,_ just painful (caltrops, electroshock thingies, anesthetic darts) or incapacitating (nets, a pit-trap worthy of a tiger, MORE anesthetic darts). The booby-trapper (was that a word? Kaito wondered) seemed to be awfully fond of ground-level things—a flaw, really; people tended to watch their feet a lot more than they watched overhead, something that the Kid had taken advantage of more than once and—

_--hmmmmmm--_

--there was a light up ahead. Several of them, in fact, and the kind of shimmery, glimmering flicker that you got when you shone something through water…..

_Yeah. About time….._ Kaito quickened his step.

The pond was quite small, no more than four meters across; he surveyed it from behind the cover of a tree-trunk. Stone-rimmed and reflecting the arch of a mossy bridge, the waters were lit from above by several carved lanterns and should have been quite dark; but bluish radiance filtered up from below the surface as well. The trees overhung the pond only slightly, allowing clear view of the sky overhead; it was probably a very nice place to sit and meditate in during the daytime.

At _night,_ though, it practically shrieked TRAPS! TRAPS! in a loud, piercing voice.

_Hmmmmmmmm__ Again. Water, right? I've had to look for the others, but this one's just lying there. And I'll betcha the 'water' thing's gonna be IN the water—where else? Shit. I'm about to get cold and wet._ Kaito sighed and stepped out into the open; there didn't seem to be much reason to hide, since the test probably wouldn't begin until he actually got into the pond. "I hope you guys have some hot towels waiting for me after this," he complained aloud into the night air. "And I wouldn't say no to a snack, either." The night air did not deign to reply; with a snort, he moved forward to peer over the rim of the pool.

"……..Well…… THAT'S not exactly what I expected."

The 'water' emblem was indeed carved into a block of stone a couple of meters down in the water; the dim illumination shining from a concealed bulb showed it clearly enough. Of course, the fact that it was roughly _two meters across_ made it pretty easy to see…

He scratched his head, still staring. No mistaking it, there it was; and smack in the middle of the kanji was a round dot of stone as large as Kaito's hand, with a darker circle in its center—if there had been an arrow pointing to the spot saying 'INSERT COIN HERE' in big, flashy letters, it couldn't have been clearer. So….. if the place for the coin was so easy to find, where was the trick? Where was the test? Where were the poisoned darts/attack-dogs/rains of death/assassins/bombs/berserk monkey ninjas of doom? "Not that I _want_ any berserk monkey ninjas of doom or anything," the young thief murmured aloud, scowling down bemusedly at the well-lit floor of the pool; the water lapped peacefully back against the edge in reply. "But there's gotta be a trick here somewher**ERRKK****!" **Windmilling his arms, Kaito jerked back and away from the pool---

--as several large, well-fed-looking koi peacefully swam out from beneath a ledge and drifted across the pool.

"Oh **HELL** no!"

…..but there they were, and they were followed by a school of even more: cold slimy finny disgusting horrors, slithering through the water right above HIS target like—like, well, slithery things. In the water. Where he needed to go. And he was going to have to _get in the water with them._

_…..eeeeeee**EEEEEEE**eeeeyaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!

* * *

_

"I think he just spotted the fish. Ojikisama, that was _cruel. _I mean, they don't bother ME, but—"

"Learning experiences are often cruel, Mika-chan. Keep watching. Aoko-san, would you care for some popcorn?"

"Oh _yes,_ please… I, ah, guess you know--? About… Kaito and fish--?"

"You might say that, yes."

* * *

_Fine.__ Just FIIIIIIIIINE. First big rocks, then rains of hot metal, now f-fish. Bring back the hot metal, why don't you?_

Kaito perched on the edge of the pool, peering at the movement below with an expression of pure disgust. _And they can't be little tiny aquarium things, noooo, they just had to be huge freaking ancient denizens of the deep, didn't they?_ He vaguely recalled reading somewhere that koi had been known to reach as much as a hundred years in age. One of the larger ones, bluish-grey with coppery spots, broke the water and mouthed at something floating there; and Kaito suppressed a shudder. "Great. Well, if they think I'm going in there with a bunch of f-fish, they need their heads examined…" he muttered out loud as he turned to rummage in his pack. "Lessee, I know there's an extendable probe in here somewhere—a little sticky putty to attach the coin on the end of it and I can just poke it through the water and we're all set….."

_...hmmmm……_His hands slowed, then halted.

Yeah; he _could_ do that, couldn't he? So… why did it feel like he was cheating if he did it?

_….hmm.__ Damn. It DOES feel like cheating. I guess it depends on what's being tested, doesn't it? And anybody can stick a coin on a metal rod into a slot. On the other hand, this isn't exactly a difficult test, not if you're not afraid of those things…. But this pond's been here for a long time; it's old. This test has been done here for ages, looks like; sooooo… it's not much of a test unless **everybody** being tested…._

_…..is…… afraid of fish….?_

Kaito sat back on his heels, an arrested expression on his face. The probe dropped back unnoticed into the bag. _Oooh__ Now, isn't THAT an interesting little idea? You betcha; but let's stow that thought away for later, Thief Boy, and get on with things. You're going to have to get into the water. With THEM._

_Oh God. Noooooooooooo, no no no. Don't wanna, DON'T WANT TO, I do not want to have to-- _The son of Kuroba Toichi could feel himself beginning to hyperventilate; well, good, it'd put more oxygen in his bloodstream for when he went into the water with--

--and he looked down at said water as if hoping it had evaporated and left behind a dry, muddy hole full of fish-bones; no such luck, though… it was still nothing but a dismally fishy expanse of very unevaporated water, just waiting for him.

--with f-fish. F-freaking f-fish.

Oh, _how_ goddamn wonderful.

Kaito swallowed hard, running a gloved hand that was damp beneath its leather covering across his suddenly sweaty face. _At least I don't have to worry about any electric-shock traps; electric charges would kill the koi. No pressure-traps either, because the weight of the water would've set 'em off by now as well. And it's probably warmer than it would normally be, because of the lights—if it were too cold, the f-fish'd all be dormant. Lucky me….. So there's no reason I can't go RIGHT on in, is there?_

No, there wasn't.

He gulped again. One of the fish splashed sadistically (and he could swear there were more of them now, too…..)

"Fine. Aoko?" Kaito said aloud to the listening devices that he was certain were around, "if I get torn into little itty pieces by demonic flesh-eating Monsters of the Deep, don't say I didn't say 'I told you so.'"

With all the reluctance of the smallest, skinniest of the Spartans at Attica, the young thief began removing any unnecessary clothing; shoes, gloves, jacket, sweatshirt, pack, pants and various and sundry equipment from pockets were stacked to one side, and Kaito stood shivering in the chilly air in his boxers and t-shirt. "This damn well better be worth it," he sighed; the water looked _way_ too cold for comfort and not in the least inviting, especially the fishy elements of it. With a brief prayer to whichever fish-hating ancestors might be listening, he gripped the Water Coin tightly and slid slowly in.

_WAAAAAAAHHHH! COLDCOLDCOLD! _There was a brief eruption of splashing by Kaito's feet. _GO THE HELL AWAY, FISH!_ He kicked frantically.

It **_was_ **cold; there were several more faint splashes and ripples around Kaito that he did his quivering best to ignore as the pond's piscine population darted off towards the sides (apparently they were no more fond of him than he was of them, if that were possible). Taking as deep a breath as possible, Kaito resolutely ducked beneath the surface. Okay, so it was bearable if you ignored the chill… and the part of his brain that was shouting _FISH FISH FISH! WTF ARE YOU DOING? GET THE HELL OUT OF DODGE!_ without the slightest hint of shame. If you managed to ignore _that,_ it wasn't all that horrible.

Mostly.

The light was bright enough that he could see the slot for the Water Coin quite clearly, smack in the middle of the large stone that floored the pool. _Fine, so let's GET THIS OVER WITH._ Kaito kicked hard, reasoning that the more he splashed, the less the koi would want to approach; and it seemed to be working…

_Coin in slot, coin in slot, right, DO it you coward--_ Almost blindly his hand shot out through the cold, clear water, shoving the coin hard-------

_--and a fish brushed against the back of one leg--_

---as the Water Coin slid into place. And that was all—well, the lights abruptly blinked, but otherwise… _Where's the rest of the test? What, no rocks or Deadly Attack Trout with laser-beams? No sharks? No ninjas? Where are the monkey ninjas? I expected a rain of arrows or whatever at the very least-- Nearly_ affronted, Kaito splashed hurriedly towards the surface, trailing bubbles. The soft slither of fins against his ankle made him redouble his efforts, and he was nearly levitating by the time he slid out, dripping, onto the cold stone of the pond's lip.

Jesus Christ, he reflected wildly, might have walked on water with panache; but Kaito would bet he'd beat his speed-record.

_Ninjas?__ Where're the ninjas?_ Shivering, the young thief swiveled around; nope, no ninjas—

--oh, except for the _black-clad figure dropping out of the trees and accelerating towards him._ With manic calm, Kaito nodded to himself. Good, he'd just been **sure** that somewhere here there'd be ninjas.

_Well, of course. What kind of Secret Kuroba Clan Estate full of booby-traps and hidden passageways would this BE if it wasn't infested with ninjas? Or at least one of 'em; I'll let it go with just one._ A distinct falling-down-the-rabbit-hole feeling crept across the young thief, and he shrugged as he absentmindedly wiped a trickle of cold water from his neck, eyeing his opponent—and the gaping opening that suddenly appeared at its back as one of the mossy flagstones slid aside. There were stairs down there, lit by a small torch, leading into some sort of tunnel. And—yes, there was the 'water' symbol, carved deeply into the walls and flooring.

And a ninja, smack in the way.

"Uh, hi. _Niiiiiiice_ ninja. I don't suppose you're going to be reasonable about this, are you?"

The black-clad figure moved silently closer, something sharp-edged and lethal-looking glittering in each hand………

* * *

**_TO BE CONTINUED._**

**_Ysabet's Notes:_**_ Wow; where to begin? First, I guess, with an apology for my several-month-long hiatus between chapters. Sorry, y'all; but I really DO have a good excuse! You see, Reality up and smacked me sideways with breast cancer; I've been in the hospital three times, had a double mastectomy (known as The Boobectomy of Ysabet), and am currently in chemo. No fun, I can tell you; but hell, it's better than dying. Anyway, however, it's been a wee bit hard to work on this for some time—dunno; it felt like most of my creativity went into getting well, rather than writing (other than the occasional blurb, that is). However, Windfall was NOT, NOT, NOT emphatically NOT dropped (anymore than my other projects were); it just got put aside while I worked on doing tedious things like healing and so forth._

_Soooooooo… I was going to publish a somewhat larger version of this chapter (this bit's not even 12,000 words!), but this seemed to be such a nice place to drop a cliffhanger that I just couldn't resist; don't kill me! And I do swear: the next bit will be much, much quicker in being posted. Chemo's not lots of joy to deal with, but I'm getting a handle on it and my creativity's back in order, I think. Besides, poor Kaito's still got several trials to go through, doesn't he? And then there's the skinny-dipping scene and the poker game and poor Conan and the litter-box of doom….. heh heh heh._

_Humongous Thanks and so forth are proffered to **Icka M. Chif,** who has been responsible for literally keeping me alive through all this; to my friend **Morgan** and her son **Sean** who have also put up with me and made me laugh; to all my good friends who listened to me whine on my livejournal and swatted me or petted me when I needed it; to **EdWired** for sending me neat gifties and encouragement (Hi, Ed!); and to everybody else out there to whom I owe more to than I can ever, ever repay._

_Next chapter__: You'll see. Oh, you'll see. Flaky aunts, grouchy cousins, The Uncle Himself, a rather interesting take on family values… and the bad guys. Let's not forget about the bad guys, shall we? They're still out there, waiting._

_P.S.: Due to ff-dot-net's unrelenting war on the common asterisk, I had to delete them from bracketing Kaito (and others') thoughts. Hope this doesn't mess anything up in the reading. Thank you SO kindly, ff-dot-net, for saving us from the spiky perils of the asterisk. I'm sure the collywobbles of my heart have been warmed by your diligence and, uh, whatever. Right._


	21. History, Part Two

**_Chapter 21: History, Part Two_**

_Tumbling through a thousand centuries,  
You don't know where you'll land;  
It's so dark in mythology…  
Treasures of history  
__To be found  
Near the legends of time—  
__All their handiworks remain there,  
Only a dream away.  
__ (George Harrison, "Dream Away")  
_

_Mom told me there'd be days like this. Well, okay, she DIDN'T say they'd include ninjas, but---_ Kaito was having difficulties.

"Uh, hi. Niiiiiiice ninja. I don't suppose you're going to be reasonable about this, are you?"

The black-clad figure moved closer, something lethal and pointy glittering in each hand. Only it wasn't really black-clad; ash, charcoal, shadowy hues all intermingled in the other's close-fitting garment, even in the gloves and boots. Eyes were hidden behind goggles, as the face was behind an all-enveloping Balaclava; there was nothing recognizable, nothing at all to give away who the other might be.

_Well duhhh… in the movies, ninjas are ALWAYS unidentifiable. And sometimes they turn out to be somebody the hero knows--_ Kaito blinked, an awful suspicion stealing over him. "Aoko?" he asked warily. "That's not you, is it?" _Not that I really think it is, but…_ The 'ninja' paused, emitting a sudden air of incredularity; okay, so NOT Aoko, definitely not Aoko. "Uh-- Mom?... no, didn't think so either." He fixed the figure with a hard stare, trying to gauge how much (if any) of the dark clothing was padding. "Jii?"

Apparently not right either. Ninja-san slid another throwing-whatsit out of a sleeve; it glittered nastily. "Okay, _be_ that way then. Are you going to throw those things or just wave them around hoping they'll grow bigger?" Kaito asked hopefully, watching the black-gloved hands. It never hurt to infuriate an enemy into hasty movement. In the meantime, however, his feet were beginning to take him cautiously along the edge of the pool towards the cover of the small, arching bridge…

_Feets don't fail me now. I know I saw a small, flat stone over here--_ Cold and still wearing only soaking-wet socks, the aforementioned feet felt gingerly around until they stubbed against something that matched memory: a flat stone, right by the edge of the rim— With a movement that would have done his acrobatic father proud, Kaito's toes flipped it neatly up into a flat trajectory straight for Ninja-san's face. _And take THAT,_ he thought with satisfaction as he dropped into a crouch.

Things began happening very, very **quickly** then.

_Ziiiip-THUNK!  
_**_EEEYOW!  
_**_ZIP! THWIP! _Thwip-_THWAP!_

Oddly enough, honest-to-Ming-The-Merciless ninja throwing-stars and whatever those stiletto-thingies were called were really much easier to dodge than bullets, but a hell of a lot more unnerving. Maybe it was just the proximity, thought Kaito as he bounced sideways off a tree, feet first; or maybe it was the fact that the damned things just kept sprouting between his opponent's fingers like weeds with attitude—

--and now he was—swinging some sort of… leather strap-looking arrangement around and around? With something IN it? Around and around, faster and faster, _Oh_ crap—

'Sling', Kaito thought; yeah, that was the word. Several lead spheres hit the earth where his feet had just been as he flipped hastily out of the way. The long hours of stress and perpetual annoyance were starting to take their toll; he was beginning to grow angry. _Godammit, I'm getting tired of dancing around like everybody's little puppet; time to take this into offensive mode for a change._ One hand reached down to dip into his jacket pocket—

_--no! jacket!_ where the #$! was his— _Shit! I took it off when I went into the water!_

Another barrage of lead balls impacted right beside his ribs on a tree-trunk. Forget about beginning to be angry; now he WAS angry. _Okay, this calls for desperate measures--_

--and the young thief was suddenly flying feet-first towards his assailant, propelled by a swing around a handy branch. He had just enough time to see the eyes behind the goggles widen before Ground Zero Impact, right into the other's midsection.

_OOOF!_ Great; down butt-first into the pond-side mud. It was some consolation that his opponent had done the same, but—and what the _hell_ was he doing, sitting there like an idiot and not heading at a dead run for the tunnel with the stairs? The one with the 'water' symbol carved all over it? _Wonderful question, Thief Boy; so why don't you get your ass in gear and go? No time like the present—YOWP!_

Scrambling to his feet and darting past the fallen Ninja-San hadn't worked; a black-gloved hand had whipped out with all the speed of a striking snake and wrapped itself around one ankle, bringing Kaito back down to earth again… headfirst. He saw stars, and—now the stars were… moving….. No, _he_ was moving, being dragged by his ankles over wet ground. There was a moment when Kaito realized through the slow-clearing haze of pain in his head that he was sliding across the stones that made up the pool's edge.

_…..rocks…..?...Uhhhhh… the pool's edge…..?...what… oh. Oh. HELL. No. **FISH! NONONONONO!**_

It wasn't that Kaito was good at hand-to-hand combat; he wasn't, particularly. What he _was_ good at was precision under fire and a real talent for controlled panic when pressured. So, later on, it would occur to him that this was a Good Thing, considering how quickly he had gone from a sludge-headed inert lump straight into Overdrive. And it hadn't been any wild flailing about, either; his hands had braced themselves like _that _and his foot had whipped around to hook a black-clad knee like _that_—

--and the other foot had _kicked_—

Quite suddenly the air over the pond had been full of a new work in performance art: _Horrified Ninja In Flight, Falling Fast._

"**RRAAARGH NOOO!"**

_**SPLASH!**_

_Oh, I think I had better HAUL my ass out of here right now._

And that would've worked just fine, if Ninja-san had fallen more towards the other side of the pond instead of next to the edge; even as Kaito scrambled to his feet, dripping gloves were hauling an equally-dripping body out of the water, and now it was Kaito's turn to be tripped, grabbed, and _smacked_ butt-first towards the ground. There were a few seconds of purely random shoving and grabs at soaking-wet clothing and slippery limbs; Kaito lost his soggy t-shirt but managed to avoid the worst of the blows and struggled back onto his feet, liberally plastered with mud, before being hammerlocked by Ninja-san.

_Goddammit, doesn't this guy ever give UP?_ And Kaito was getting the worst of it now; he could wriggle his arms free, but that was about all—hand-to-hand combat had never been his strong point, and he was _pissed off_ about being grabbed, yanked around, shoved and punched. The thief swore angrily as he squirmed around in his opponent's hold, no longer back-to-front but facing him now. They were pretty much of an even height; Ninja-san's eyes were blazing with fury through the goggles. _Shit—won't let go of me, will you? I'll #$&!ing MAKE you let go--_ With that thought, Kaito thrust his arms up, grabbed his adversary's arms tightly, and—

_--try THIS on for size, you bastard--_

--yanked him down and _kissed_ him (SMACK!) soundly on his cloth-covered lips. Ninja-san froze; a muffled yelp came from behind the black swathing, and Kaito took that opportunity to simultaneously _push_ him—hard—and _shove_ him sideways… towards the koi pond. Again---

"**NRAAAAAAAGHHH!" SPLOOSH!**

Wild thrashing behind him made a backdrop of noise as the young magician scrambled to his feet and hightailed it down the gravel path, very much in bat-out-of-Hell mode. _GOTCHA! Gotcha gotcha gotcha--_ Head still throbbing, Kaito slipped and slid in his soaking wet socks _(GoGoGoGoGo, dammit!) _towards the tunnel and stairs and was long gone by the time the cursing Ninja-san (he was pretty sure that the garbled noises coming from behind the face-wrappings were curses; the 'NRAAAAAAAGHHH!' had been clear enough) had gotten a grip on the side.

The thief hit the tunnel like a landslide thundering down a slope towards a peaceful, slumbering village, moving fast and not caring what lay in his path. Fortunately for him, the darkened passageway was clear of obstacles, and he splatted his way in his soaked clothing and socks at a dead run towards the small light that wavered in the distance. Behind him, the sounds of splashes and curses were abruptly cut off by the sound of a stone panel sliding shut, _CLICK._

_Thank God for that. Ninja-san sounded pretty pissed._ Breathing hard, Kaito shoved his tangle of soggy hair out of his eyes and did a quick status check, even as he broke into involuntary snickers. _Gotta tell Aoko: Ninjas don't kiss nearly as well as she does! Bet he's REALLY pissed; serves him right. Okay… couple of bruises, and they won't be there long; lots of mud everywhere; all my clothes and my gear except my boxers and socks are back on the pondside, and I don't think it'd be a good idea to go back for 'em… Still got the rest of the coins, though, around my neck, though; good. I can manage without my gear, though I'd feel a lot better if I had it._

Well, whatever. He'd made it this far, hadn't he? Stressing out could wait 'til later.

The tunnel stretched before him, dark-on-dark with added dark around the edges—not that it made all that much difference, especially with that glow of light in the distance. With all the care that wet underwear and mud-caked socks would allow, the young thief slipped down the passageway, sniffing at the air like a wary cat. _Hmm; dampness… oil? An oil lamp? And….. something—oooh; something nice up ahead._ His stomach growled audibly, and Kaito quickened his pace.

The 'something nice' turned out to be a lidded bowl of dark brown crockery, wrapped to the brim in a towel to keep it warm; the small oil lamp (he had been right about that) illuminated a small circle from the dark, shedding light on the pile of folded cloth on the small wooden table that bore it. "Hmm?" he murmured aloud, picking up—yes, it _was_ a towel, and that was a hakima and those were tabis and a white cotton gi and a man's black haori with… oh.

Interesting.

The crests decorating the haori's fabric were familiar, the same _mon_ found on one side of the 'coins'—four feathers overlapping in a circle. Kaito blinked, but shrugged as nonchalantly as possible under the circumstances and began stripping off his sodden clothing. _Any port in a storm, et cetera; _the garments were dry and warm, and that was what mattered after he had wiped the worst of the mud from his skin and hair. And then there was that beautiful, savory-smelling bowl just waiting for him, and the lid came off just fine--

Dumplings. First ninjas and koi-ponds, now dry clothing and dumplings. He could handle that…… except….. eep. Dammit.

If his relatives were willing to throw goddamned fish and big rocks and hot metal and ninjas at him, would they stop at poison in the dumplings? Okay, maybe not _poison,_ but sleep-drugs at the very least-- Kaito's stomach went _GURGLEGROWWWLL! _at the thought, but-- Dammit again. He poked at a dumpling, breaking it open cautiously.

Pork and black mushrooms. It _steamed_ at him alluringly. _Eeeeat meeeee, Kaito!_ it said. _Eeeeeeeat meeeeeee!_

Daaaammit…..

It was then that he saw the scrap of paper sticking out from beneath the bowl; the scrawl on it was actually familiar. _'It's okay, you can eat them. Hurry up, we're waiting.'_ The note was unsigned, but he had snitched Aoko's notebooks enough times to know her writing down to the last stroke. Kaito swallowed hard, fingers already scooping up the first dumpling; _Memo to self: Be sure to kiss Aoko within an inch of her life at the first opportunity for keeping you from starving to death. End of memo. Ooooh, shrimp!_

And not all _that_ far away, no, not far away at all by now…..

* * *

"Aoko, dear? Did you cover your eyes when he was changing clothes?"

"..……..….."

"She PEEKED, Obaa-sama! I saw her!"

"And you didn't? Then how did you see her, Mika-chan? I thought you covered your eyes as well."

"Why would I do that? But Obaa-sama, you forgot to leave him some underwear, you know, and his was all wet so he just—"

"—and I think that's _quite_ enough on the subject, Mika-chan, don't you?"

* * *

More tunnels. Apparently the Kuroba clan in general was really big on the closely-fitted grey stone look, with an occasional designer crow carved here and there to break up the monotony. They were all flying the same way, though, just like in the first tunnel Kaito had been in; so he supposed that he was going in the correct direction.

The tabis were a lot more comfortable than his wet socks had been; and the less said about soggy boxers, the better. He wadded up the wet garments and headed on his way.

There was another glow up ahead, very faint and threadlike; a few more minutes of stealthy walking brought the young thief to a rather prosaic sliding door with light seeping in from the cracks at threshold and doorjamb. He paused for a second to slip off his necklace of coins, fingering them thoughtfully. _Wood, huh? That's next, and then last of all is fire. And then what?_ Kaito knotted the coins in his fist, brushing the fingers of his other hand down the front of his too-formal outfit (and if it hadn't been for that wedding he had attended the previous fall, he wouldn't have had a clue about how to put the damned thing on); _Why'd they leave this out for me? They could've left just towels or something a lot simpler, like sweatpants and a t-shirt; why all this fancy stuff? The mon… You wear a family's crest when you represent the family; does this have something to do with facing down that ninja guy? It's not like I beat him into the ground._ He scowled, fingering the haori's fabric; it was fine silk, stiff and tightly woven.

_Maybe I didn't have to beat him bloody. How often do I really end up fighting during a heist? It's all bouncing off people's heads and furniture, maybe up and down an elevator shaft or two and then off on my glider while Nakamori screams at me. Most of the time I don't even throw a single punch, just flashbombs or whatever—and that's how I like it. Smoke and glitter and flight, and a flashy getaway at the end; but not much fighting. So maybe the goal was just to do that, after all—to get away, boom. And NOT to get thrown into the koi-pond._ Kaito shuddered. _I have a nasty feeling that sooner or later Ninja-san's own little swim with the fishies is going to come back to haunt me…_

_So….. I'm wearing the Kuroba clan mon. And I'm more than halfway through the tests. What do they figure, I've won the right to wear it now? God, I'm getting sick of this; it's all so much shooting in the dark. Though… _and Kaito grinned to himself, straightening his haori, _…the dark isn't as much of a problem as it used to be._

_So let's move on, then, Thief Boy. Like Aoko's note said, they're waiting for me._

He slid the door open.

_Ooh; interesting. You could use this place to film Onmyoji III._

The room that lay beyond was, at first glance, a museum piece or something straight out of a historical movie set… only, well, _not._ Movies sets were abnormally neat and perfect, unless clutter was part of the script; this room fit the definition of 'perfect', but you could tell that it had been in use. The hangings on the ornate, old-fashioned bed on its pedestal were a little uneven; there was a book sprawled face-down across the bedside table; and there was scarcely any dust. You didn't usually find candy-jars in museum exhibits either, but there one was, right by the book; otherwise, though… That bed, now: fit for an emperor, what with the embroidery and gilding on the wood and so forth. The walls were carved and painted with a design of birds flying through bamboo forests, the dim light gilding their feathers with washes of gold and shadow, though the ceiling wasn't anything special. Nice smooth wooden floor made of cedarwood or something similar—

_--hold it._

Kaito blinked. Something about that floor…..

_If I were going to booby-trap a room that I used, I'd set it up so that the traps didn't damage the furnishings. That rules out stuff that flies through the air, arrows and so forth. Trap-doors, hidden drops… or maybe things from the ceiling… but probably not the walls._ Sharp eyes checked out the upper portions of the room; _Noooo… it's just gilded wood, hardly even any joins visible. There COULD be apertures built into it, but they'd be hard to hide. The floor, though—_

It wasn't that it didn't match the decor or anything; it was beautiful too, long wooden lengths with distinct grooves between each plank, polished smooth as silk; but for some reason it was setting off alarms in the back of his head Big Time. The difference between following your instincts and all-out paranoia, he supposed as he peered down at the flooring, got a lot smaller when the stakes were higher than just embarrassment; and right now, Kaito decided, he was going to trust his instincts. Just in case.

A paranoid kaitou was one that survived to tell big, whopping lies about his heists to his grandkids. _Be paranoid, Kaito, be paranoid._

_Resources, resources; what do I have to use? Uhh—a set of old-fashioned clothes, one pair of soggy boxers, ditto a pair of socks, the table and stuff down the hall behind me if I want to go back and get them, my body and my wits. Oh yeah, and my invincible charm, which isn't gonna be much use just now. Hmm; socks….. and boxers….. yeah, that might work. Kind of depends… I mean, if there's a trip-wire based trap system, no dice, but if it's weight-based, this just might do the trick. Lots of factors here, like whether or not the whole floor is sensitive or just certain areas. Guess I could try clambering around on the walls, but those carvings look pretty old; might be unstable. Let's see what happens with the floor first._

The soggy boxers, rolled up tightly and stuffed into the toe of one of Kaito's socks, made a satisfactory weight; tying the remaining sock to the first one stretched the whole thing's length a bit and made it easier to swing around like a rock on a piece of string. The young thief scowled at the expanse of wooden floor, picking his target carefully…

_Betcha I'm the first kaitou in history to use his underwear to detect traps. On the other hand, from what my family's shown me so far, maybe I'm not._ He swung his contraption in a hard arc, aiming for a likely spot:

**Thwap!**_--squeak!—  
_**THWIP.**

Kaito _stared._ "…..Wow……"

If ever there had been a moment that he had been glad not to be wearing that particular set of boxers, this was it. Of course, the needle-thin steel spike sticking three feet into the air AND right through said pair of undergarments might have something to do with it….. And then there had been that _squeak;_ quite clear, just following the impact of the sock-boxers weight onto the floor, followed rapidly by the thin, knifelike spike coming up from a narrow join between the boards… Very gingerly, Kaito pulled his perforated set of laundry off of the spike; it remained upright, swaying gently, no thicker than a toothpick but considerably more deadly.

Okay. _Thwap_ followed by _squeak!_ and then _spike_, really quickly. 'Squeak'. It had sounded… metallic and almost musical, like somebody playing with the highest notes on a piano; not that faint, either. Kaito rubbed his hand across his eyes tiredly, forcing his brain to think. Musical… no, not exactly like a piano. More like squealing breaks in a car, or what you got when you rubbed a damp fingertip around the edge of a wineglass. _SQUEAK._

_Got it. What do you know, one of those school field-trips actually came in handy-- Thank you, public education system!_ Kaito beamed out at the expanse of wood as if he had put it in place himself. "Heh; paint me black, give me a badge and call me a keibu," he murmured softly; "Never thought I'd get to play with one of _these_ ever again—"

It was a Nightingale Floor.

_Cool._ The thief rubbed his hands together, tiredness forgotten. _Very cool. Now THIS is a challenge._

* * *

"I thought maybe he'd be upset; most people don't LIKE spikes. Aoko-san?"

"_S-spikes?_ Um, I…. Well… last year our class went to Osaka Castle on a field-trip and Kaito almost got arrested over the Nightingale Floor there, mostly because the tour-guides wouldn't let him test every inch of it and he went ahead and did it anyway, really fast. I mean, REALLY fast—he was playing _tunes_ with it! And after security escorted him outside, somehow he managed to sneak in with the next tour group and did it all over again. And then they locked the doors, and he snuck back inside somehow and did it _again._ He really liked it. But—about those spikes…? The room's not really boobytrapped with--? Is it?"

"Don't worry, he'll be okay. How does the floor work, Ojiki-sama?"

"Ahem. There are several methods of engineering a Nightingale Floor, but ours follows the one used in Nezumi Castle… with a few lethal improvements. Lengths of wood are arranged so that they sit slightly offset from the supports below, with rods of metal protruding against metallic plates or shavings beneath; the slightest, most delicate pressure is enough to slide the rods against the shavings or plates and will produce tones, usually known as 'singing'. The old warlords and _daimyo_ had them designed as alarm devices, though not usually in their bedrooms." A chuckle of satisfaction. "Theirs, of course, did not have the added ingredient of spring-loaded spikes; they're my own touch."

"So _THAT'S_ why we can't go into your and Obaa-sama's bedroom without permission—"

"Mostly, yes; we have to lock the spikes down. Aside from that, though… you always steal all the peppermints from my candy-jar."

_

* * *

Mmmm. Nice squeaky floor-trap. So, Thief Boy, do you suppose every spot out there is booby-trapped? Probably; I mean, why do a half-way job? I wonder where I could find the trigger that disables this gizmo? I seriously doubt that whoever sleeps here pole-vaults their way to bed every night. A little searching on the wall outside the room gave nothing back; but there was another door opposite and over to one side, and most likely the trigger was there (unless Great-Uncle-sama or whoever enjoyed wandering through cold stone corridors in his pajamas). __Oh well…_ Kaito shrugged philosophically; he hadn't expected it to be that easy after all. A little searching on the wall outside the room gave nothing back; but there was another door opposite and over to one side, and most likely the trigger was there (unless Great-Uncle-sama or whoever enjoyed wandering through cold stone corridors in his pajamas). Kaito shrugged philosophically; he hadn't expected it to be that easy after all. 

_Hmm. I could… no, that wouldn't work. Or I could maybe… uh-uh; I'd end up with my nadgers skewered, which'd ruin all sorts of future plans. So, what if I--? Nope; I can't jump THAT far._

_I wonder what happens if you hit them twice?_

There was no time like the present to find out. **_Thwack!_**

An eyebrow went up in interest. _Ah; nothing's happening. Let's hit it again a few times, though, and then do a little more experimenting. **Thwap!-squeak! Thwack-SQUEAK-Whap! Thwappity-SQUEAK-thwappity-thwacka-squeak Whap SQUEAK! WHAP-squeak-thwap thwack—**_

After convincing himself that the floor would only bite back once per pressure applied (and, incidentally, putting a hell of a lot of holes in his underwear), the young thief thought hard, took a good long look at the carved crows flying across the walls, and plotted briefly.

_So long as I'm VERY careful about how I step, I should be able to do this without too much trouble… unless the designer's included a few more traps of some other kind out there. If it was me, I'd stick a few surprises in the floorboards. And the walls. And in the ceiling, too. I think I can figure out where some of the most dangerous spots are, though…_

_…so now it's time to test my ideas._ Kaito looked at the small field of silver knife-blades that his previous experimentation had caused to sprout; they swayed cheerfully at him, lethal needle-tipped grass. _I sure hope I'm right about this, or I'm going to need more than underwear to save me. And I'm not even wearing any at the moment._

It was like… wading through sharp, silvery, lethal grass. _THWACK!_ would go his improvised weapon, and _squeak!_ would go the floor, singing brightly; up would shoot one of the spikes (they seemed to be made of some sort of fine, springy steel, distinctly NOT in keeping with the age of the room) and on he would go, one cautious footstep at a time. The spikes were of many different lengths, some nearly knee-height, some reaching no taller than his ankles; it took a lot of concentration to make sure that he didn't slip up and end his days as a pincushion.

Swing-_THWAP!_-squeak-_SPIKE!_ Over and over, carefully, carefully….. Almost half-way across the room now…..

Until something underfoot went _thunk._ Kaito froze in place.

_…..Don't breathe. Don't even breathe. What's changed?_

Nothing… except… The board beneath his advancing foot seemed to have sunk a bit _lower_ than the previous one, just a very little—and some mechanism beneath had gone _thunk_ rather than _squeak._ And this meant… what?

Instinct sent the thief into a crouch (it also nearly gave him several painful holes in his backside, had he crouched any lower); his quick eyes darted from side to side. _Nothing left, nothing ri—WHOA!_

Well, he **_had_** speculated about extra traps, hadn't he? Balancing precariously on his heels, the son of Kuroba Toichi felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck as he stared into the depths of the pit that had opened on silent hinges directly in front of him. It was dark, deep, and you couldn't see the bottom; _Well, of course you can't,_ he thought a little crazily, swallowing his heartbeat; _Bottomless pits go RIGHT along with ninjas, traps and mysterious tunnels. Indiana Jones, where are you when I need you?_ At least, though, he hadn't fallen in; if it had opened directly beneath his feet, Kaito guessed he'd be finding out just what actually _did_ lie at the bottom—crocodiles? rodents of unusual size? snakes?

_Shiiiiiiiit... This sort of thing almost never happens when I'm on a heist._

As he precariously inched his way backwards (no easy thing, when you've got spikes pointing at your butt), Kaito wondered if Arséne Lupin had had to go through this sort of thing to visit HIS family...?

* * *

"—_please_ don't worry so, Aoko-san; there's nothing dangerous at the bottom, truly. At one time it was filled with water, but my husband had it drained; granted, it's quite a drop, but there's a net at the bottom… just in case."

"A-and the spikes?"

"_Fully _retractable, at least on the current setting. Should anything heavier than a footfall land on them—say, for instance, if our great-nephew were to do something so dreadfully clumsy as to trip and fall—they would retract to no longer than a centimeter. Oh, it would _hurt,_ but it wouldn't be fatal. We're not intending to kill the boy, dear… just to test him. _'A good anvil does not fear the hammer,'_ you know; an old Italian proverb."

"…I… I… okay………….."

* * *

"Finally; 'bout time, too," muttered the thief under his breath as he reached his goal. There had been a couple of bad moments when he had skirted the bed (one of the dangerous spots he had hoped to avoid; two more pits and a surprise ceiling-trap that involved heavy wooden blocks attached to ropes that would have neatly knocked him out cold if he hadn't avoided them), but now he was barely a meter away from the wall. To either side, the carved birds dipped and wove among their gilded bamboo forest, all of them flying towards a single point: a thin crescent-moon, painted silvery and delicate among the bamboo and dead ahead.

It was a nice touch, that moon; you could hardly notice the indented slot on the moon's edge. The 'Wood' coin slid in without a sound, and Kaito held his breath as the panels in front of him clicked softly, a lock-mechanism somewhere disengaging. With care he caught the edges of the fine crack that had opened up from top to bottom of the wall and slid the hidden door open; it moved soundlessly, and he slipped through into the dark space beyond.

_Well, that wasn't so bad. I mean, spikes and pits and ceiling-things and all, but compared to the fish or the molten metal it wasn't too earth-shaking. Maybe because it was more of a mental challenge than a physical one? I had to think it out (once I got over the spikes, anyway) to get across the room. Way to go, Kuroba; we just might get through this with everything intact yet._ Kaito mentally gave himself a high-five as the panel closed behind him. _Now let's get the next one done: Fire. Only one coin left._

There was no light where he was; not even a vague glow or the flicker of an oil-lamp. Cold stone underfoot, he could feel it through his tabis, and there was a scent of moving air—no, there was an _air current_ flowing past him, a little chilly but promising an exit. All he had to do was follow it through the dark.

And it was _really_ dark, wasn't it? So much for his new-and-improved night-vision; apparently his eyes had to have at least a little light to work with, just like a cat's. "Meow," whispered Kaito to the blackness, moving forward, whisper-silent. Darkness was a thief's friend.

* * *

"Wow… His eyes are glowing blue….."

"It's a trick of some sort; it has to be—"

"Well, _duhhhh, _Kaiji-nee; Kaito-san's one of us, so of COURSE it's a trick. But how's he doing it? Ojiki-sama, do you know?"

"I would be quite interested in knowing how he manages that as well, Mika-chan; I'd like to know _why_ as well. Aoko-san, do you have an explanation--? But no; perhaps I should wait and ask Kaito himself, ne?"

"That's… probably a good idea, sir."

_

* * *

Jeeze; long corridor._

Kaito had given up on silence by now and was absentmindedly singing to himself as he walked through the darkness. _"She's like Armageddon/ She's so nuclear/ She's got the Four Horsemen/ Right on, baby, right on now," _he sang in English; the lyrics of the song by Trinket were a perfect mimic of the original, right down to the accents. What was the point of being able to imitate people's voices if you couldn't manage your favorite songs?

"_She means everything to me: she goes Boom, Boom, Boom--/ I go crazy, crazyyyy—"_

His toes bumped something vertical and hard even as his fingers traced roughly-fitted blocks along the walls; no carvings here. And before him… not a barrier; steps leading upwards. Fine, good, upwards was okay; among the five elements that all this test-business was based on, only fire could fly—so upwards it was. The thief counted aloud as he ascended: one step, two steps, three, then five and ten and fifteen and a landing: still in blackness, still cold stone.

But the air was also still moving….. Where was it going? He stretched his hands out cautiously.

_Hm; got it. There's a door in front of me, not a sliding door but one on hinges; that says it's an outside door, and the air's flowing out under the jamb. No light's showing, because it's almost midnight—I think. Pretty close, anyway. So can I get through?_ Kaito felt the surface before him; there was a handle, and there was a keyhole. He tugged; locked. _But what kind of thief would I be if I couldn't pick a lock in the dark? And what kind of thief would I be if I didn't have at least ONE lockpick on me at all times?_ Kaito grinned invisibly to himself, pulling the thin bit of flattened wire from one sleeve; it had been tucked squarely away inside the waistband of his boxers (just in case; ALL of his underwear had just-in-cases hidden away in them) and he had transferred it over when he had changed, the one bit of gear that had come with him.

_Lessee, now… Antique but not too antique, maybe fifty years old; oiled, and the hinges feel oiled too. No triggers that I can feel from here to be tripped, no traps… 'Course, if it was me that was setting them up, I'd have the trigger on the outside of the door so that swinging it open would trip it-- _

Kaito continued to sing, hardly aware of doing so as the lockpick did its work; _"Boom, Boom, Boom—" Easy job,_ the thief congratulated himself, and slid to one side as he pushed the door open, still singing softly to himself. _"She's apocalyptic/ Existential, too—"_

Clear, clean night lay beyond, spangled with stars; and—rooftops? Rooftops, caked with patchy snow and quite a lot of thin ice here and there. Kaito took a deep breath, reveling in the fresh air; it tasted good. And rooftops were good too; he liked rooftops. The _Kid_ liked rooftops.

_Funny; usually when I'm doing things like—well, evading capture, jumping around avoiding being hit, working towards a goal—when I do things like that, I'm almost always the Kid, not Kuroba Kaito. But I haven't hardly thought of myself as the Kid at all during this whole night… I've just been me. I mean, I'm still me when I'm the Kid, too—very MUCH me. Aren't I?_

_But this has been different. It's been about being Kuroba Kaito, not the Kaitou Kid._

He smiled out at the rooftops, humming beneath his breath. _"Boooom, boom boooom…/ I go crazy, crazyyyy…/"_

_Okay now: the last test—fire. I wouldn't have expected it to be on a rooftop, but fire does fly, so I guess that makes as much sense as any of this does. What around me relates to fire?_ Kaito's eyes, startlingly blue, flickered across the snowy expanses, and he smiled again. The answer was not only simple, it was right in front of him.

_Chimneys. Where there's smoke, there's fire._

But WHICH chimney? Just like you'd expect in a place the size of the Kuroba Estate, there were a _lot_ of them. Tall ones, short ones, fat ones, skinny ones, and many were smoking; was he supposed to check out all of them? Kaito scratched absently at his hair, encountering a stray chunk of waterweed that he had apparently carried away from the koi-pond as a souvenir; he tossed it away with a shudder.

_Fire; and—other words for fire: flame, conflagration, blaze, shoot at people—no, wrong meaning. Probably. Maybe. Maybe not._ He glanced around a little nervously, still thinking hard. _Incendiary, blow away, Rambo—I have GOT to stop thinking of words that mean guns—uhhh… I can't think of anything else. Getting tired now; it's been a long night. What catches on fire? Pretty much anything, but what do people set on fire? Wood, buildings, tinder, those briquette-things you buy in packages to use at cookouts, witches, cremations, marshmallows, fireworks, fuses, paper, the Nakamoris' garbage-bin when I was nine (and that WAS an accident), candles, torches, bad cooking, ….. Shit; this is getting me nowhere._ Scowling, Kaito scrunched down to sit on his heels in the doorway. Most of the other tests had at least given him fairly straightforward clues as to what was expected, but _this_ one—

--wait. Maybe the lack of clue was a clue in itself. Where had he seen something recently that said "FIRE" on it?

His scowl deepened. There was something, some little tag-end of memory out there….. _C'mon, brain, work! Chimneys and smoke and hot coals and heat and flames and… chimneys. Chimneys. Is this the first time you've been around a chimney? No, it's not—the hot metal room!!_

Well, CRAP. Was he going to have to go all the way back there and climb up its chimney? No freaking way. There _had_ been some sort of symbol etched waaaaay up there, high inside the brick column but almost indistinguishable against the smoke— _Think hard—what'd you see? _The thief scrabbled at his eyes with one hand, trying to scrub away the weariness that had settled in deep. He unknotted the cord that held the last remaining coin; it was the one that had been minted new, all shiny brass and unworn edges instead of being old and worn like the other four had been. Why?

Just another question.

Strong, magician's fingertips slid over the raised _'hi'_ kanji, and it spoke back to him silently as memory clicked into place: _fire. _The symbol inside the chimney had read _'fire'._

Way to go; now he had his clue. What was he supposed to do with it?

A drift of smoke made his eyes sting, carried on the wind. Burned wood, sweet and bitter at the same time… and a little more distantly, more woodsmoke, a drift of something that smelled electric—natural gas fumes? Kaito breathed deep, leaning against the cold bricks. So many new sensations since his and Aoko's change… Funny; he'd always been good at _noticing_ things, but now he was catching new scents, new sounds, new everythings.

Another deep breath. Smoke….. _Where there's smoke, there's fire….._

Woodsmoke and gas-fumes and what smelled like burned paper; slowly the young thief stepped out along the angled summit of the rooftop, tracing a line of footsteps where the tiles met up from either slope. A strong odor of cooked food, burned pine-branches, dead leaves sweet and acrid, scorched brick; he could smell them all, now that he paid attention. _Smoke….._ And enough chimneys, all told, to make a forest.

_Do I have to check them all? No, don't be stupid. Breathe; smell the smoke and think. You'll find it._

Kaito squatted down on the roof's edge like a gargoyle, his gaze intent and inward-turned. What made one chimney different from another? The type of smoke it let out. What made one drift of smoke different from another? The fire it came from. What made one fire different from the rest?

The fuel it burned.

_Not woodsmoke—coal. The chimney was above a forge, and forges burn coal._ He _sniffed_.

Nothing, not for too many long minutes; Kaito felt rather stupid, like some sort of rooftop-dwelling bloodhound. Then: there—

It was a trace on the wind, not very strong until you paid attention… bitter and earthy, the black, burned steamtrain scent that he remembered smelling as he had run for his life from drops of molten metal. _Woohoo! Over there! _Long legs blurring in quick strides, he set off across the tiles. For someone who had spent a considerable amount of time dancing above the heads of Nakamori's Task Force, it was an easy journey; a jump here, a twist and leap up there, a sideways detour around air-vents or loose shingles elsewhere… nothing any way difficult…

…until he triggered the first trip-wire.

_Ooops--_

The lead bullet, he figured as he cautiously raised up from his face-plant onto the tiles, had probably been slingshotted from a chimney somewhere; it had rocketed at a fairly flat trajectory. "I have _GOT_ to watch where I put my feet," he muttered, looking around furtively as he disentangled his foot from the trigger. The wire had been hair-thin, matt-black and almost impossible even for his eyes to see; not good, especially since the chimney that he _thought_ the coal-smell was coming from was still a pretty good ways away. _Maybe if I stay on the peaks…?_ Roof-peaks would have less places for wires to attach to—

That got him a good ways across before Kaito tripped a second trigger; tight-rope walking along the edges got him maybe twice as far before he set off a third. _Ziiiiiing! _"GodDAMMit," he groused to the rooftops and the night in general, rubbing a bruised elbow. "I am _SICK AND TIRED OF PEOPLE THROWING THINGS AT ME._ Don't you people have something better to do with your time than pick on a poor little kaitou who just wa— SHIT!" A second _ziiiiiinnnng!_ zipped by his ear, making him drop once more onto his belly; he cursed. Now they were showing up on _time-delay_ triggers; just great.

Dusting himself off, the thief got slowly to his feet. "I," he announced with supreme irritation, "have had _enough_." Kaito fixed his eyes on his goal, seven rooftops over and to the right. "**SCREW** this." And he took off at a dead run.

Nakamori would have recognized his expression just then: the Kid, that evening's target in-pocket, heading for freedom come Hell or high water. Nakamori would have screamed incoherent rage all over the place, too, but it wouldn't have done one bit of good. _Ziiing! _and _Ziiiiip!_ and _B-dowww!_ went the lead slingshot bullets from all directions as the haori-clad figure darted and leaped his way in a zig-zag pattern across the tiles: dodging, dancing, forcing tired muscles to deal with just one more task, just one more, just _one more and one more and this way and then that way and down and duck and take cover—_

--take cover behind the chimney, which was twice as broad as he was and hot with the fire burning down below. As Kaito crouched behind it, head down, a drift of coal-smoke blacker than the inside of the Inspector's pipe made him cough. _Yeah _(pant, gasp)_, that's it _(gasp, gasp)_. This is the one._ He was breathing hard; it really _had _been a long night.

And… there was a door in the chimney; _Huh?_ A real door, metal, not even locked; just latched, with an antique hook that opened at a touch. And there was graffiti on the door: names, one after the other in long columns, scratched into old iron. Kaito stared at them; they stared back, all of them saying the same thing:

_We were here. We made it too. Welcome home, Kuroba._

Someone had even written the word at the top, scratched deep into the metal-work above the columns of names: KONBANWA, _good evening;_ because no son or daughter of the Kuroba clan would have ever seen the greeting by daylight.

_Welcome home, kaitou._

His father's name was there too, up in one corner (at least he thought it was his, unless there was more than one Toichi in his ancestry). And for once, he wasn't the first person to scratch a Kaitou Kid face onto something. It grinned at him, and tired as he was, he grinned back as he used one edge of the coin to add his to the list. _Kuroba Kaito,_ it said, with a top-hatted face as punctuation.

_Hey, Tousan,_ he thought silently as he opened the door; _Mind if I join you?_

The space beyond was narrow and, though not as hot as he had feared it might be, was plenty hot and smoky enough to make his lungs burn as he began to descend the wooden ladder inside. There was barely enough room for Kaito to pass; half the chimney's width was taken up with the ladder-space, he figured, walled off from the actual flue. Just as well; he didn't particularly want to come out of this smelling like a side of bacon.

_Yum; smoked Kaito on toast, it's what's for dinner._

The descent didn't take all that long; blessed coolness enveloped him as the ladder dropped the young thief down into a room that had to be level with the attics, sort of twilight-dark but with a glow from a single oil-lamp on a shelf, right next to a single closed door at the other end of the room. Wary now that he was out of slingshot-range, Kaito took a tight grip on his coin and stepped out of the darkness into the dim lamplight.

And blinked in confusion—

_…What the--?_

_--What….. IS this? Why am I—why are all of these--_

--and slow, dawning realization.

_………..**oh**._

* * *

"I-- I don't….. Those are—"

"Yes; yes, they are. Aoko-san? Once again, please listen and I'll explain; it's very important that _you_ understand this as well."

* * *

There must have been dozens of them, lined up in rows as neat as tombstones. After all, that's what they were, really: _Iei, _they were called—funerary portraits of deceased family members, each one in its black frame. Smiling or somber, the dead looked out at Kaito with dark, accepting eyes. _We were here before you. And we went on._

_And our images were brought here for us later by the ones we left behind._

Somehow he knew that, once you had passed the last test, this wasn't a room you came back to often. Slowly, almost trance-like, the young man drifted around the room: looking, always looking at picture after picture after picture.

Suddenly Kaito was very, very cold. No, it was the room; wasn't it?

The earliest images were just line-drawings, thin things of ink that had faded with time but had been carefully preserved beneath glass; the custom wasn't all that old, and most of them only dated back into the last century or a little more. Photos, Kaito noticed distantly, gave back men and women with solemn faces in Victorian clothing or the occasional uniform as well as more traditional costume; if you followed the line of the dead across time you ran into more and more pictures of military outfits and—

_(--if you followed the line of the dead_ said the soft voice inside his mind; it sounded like his father's voice for some reason)

--then you found a whole bunch of people who had died at the same time, if the dates written beside each name in front of their _iei_ were to be believed. _The bomb; right. Jii said they died in the war._

Fire. A whole city, turned into one giant crematorium, bright with searing nuclear flame.

_(Where there's smoke, there's-- If you followed the line of the dead--)_

Kaito stopped. Wasn't that what he was here for? His family, some sort of handshake with the past, some sort of stability with the present. And if he followed the line of the dead, he would notice what also lay in front of every one of them, but he didn't really want to, thanks very much, he—

Maybe he—

_(follow the line of the dead where there's smoke there's fire where there's smoke there's fire)_

_(fire)_

--he could leave if he wanted to. He didn't have to do this.

Funny, he was breathing hard now; each breath came in gasps, short and harsh. It had to be the smoke (w_here there's smoke). _But the room was really cold, and there was a coin beside each name, in front of each image. Like an offering, that was it: like the pennies that the ancient Greeks had claimed you had to pay to the Boatman to cross the river Styx to get to the underworld. And the further you went along in time through the _iei_, the further you

_(followed the line of the dead)_

went, the brighter and shinier each coin was. But Kaito didn't _have _to look all the way to the end of the line, did he? He didn't have to see the last coin, sitting there right by that name. Right by that name. In front of _that face._ And beside it, there was a—

_Follow the line of the dead. Where there's smoke, there's fire. Welcome home, kaitou._

He… _could_ leave, couldn't he?

If he wanted to?

--beside it, there was a—

The thief sank down onto the floor into a crouch before his father's _iei_, hands white-knuckled and tight. He did not look up.

* * *

"Yes, it's cruel. But he has to understand the price."

"For what? For joining a family that he didn't even know about?"

"But we knew about _him,_ Aoko-san. We've always known about him, and we've always watched him; the only reason that we never interfered was his father's expressed wish, believe me. And if he joins us, we'll die for him if necessary; but he needs to understand that this works both ways, that it isn't a game… or at least, that if it is, it's one with a high price for losing. If he's with us, it's for life."

"…and death, Kuehiko."

"That too, Ariake, my dear; that too."

* * *

Quiet; the small, dark room full of pictures was very quiet.

If he listened, Kaito could hear a multitude of infinitely tiny sounds: the popping of wood beneath his feet, the faint sound of heated bricks from the chimney above, a metallic rattle as the night wind tried the door at the top of the ladder. Oh, and his own harsh breathing; that too, along with the thudding drum-beat of his heart.

_Way to go, Kuroba,_ his mind said softly to itself; _You made it all the way here through big rocks, hot metal, fish and sharp pointy things just to get yourself freaked out by a bunch of pictures of dead guys. So much for the mighty Kaitou Kid; Nakamori'd be ashamed to take you in. Even Hakuba'd turn his nose up at handcuffing you. And as for what your dad'd think….. Pathetic._

_It's cold here, though._

Slowly Kaito raised his head. It was something of a surprise for him to find himself crouched on the floor; had he really been _that_ much of a basket-case? He supposed he had—seeing his father's face and name there (even if he had tried not to look) had been like a slap of cold water in the face, snapping him out of his self-congratulatory Hey-I've-finished mood into what was almost horror.

Almost.

He was _thinking _again now, not breaking down _(and it's about time,_ his brain snarked at itself again). An _iei_ meant only one thing: death. The person in the picture had died; and every image, _every one of them_ had a brass coin in front of it.

And the last one, the one with the photo of Kuroba Toichi… had an empty frame beside it, with an unfilled round indentation for a coin right in front of it. And Toichi's son didn't have to be told what _THAT_ was waiting for.

Kaito shivered once, dragging his fingers through his dusty mop of hair as if for comfort; the feel of the metal disc still clutched hard in one hand made him stop, and he held it up before his eyes. "Alright," he murmured aloud, suddenly remembering that he was undoubtedly being watched and overheard; "Let's work this out." The young thief's voice echoed ever so faintly against the walls.

_Yeah; and let's give my audience a little show… one called "Kaito Gets A Clue". Matinees every third Saturday of the month!_ Even in his head the joke fell flat, but it helped a little. He drew a deep breath, straightening.

"Hello, anybody who's listening—my great-uncle, I guess, and Jii, and my mom and Aoko I hope. And I suppose you're watching me too, huh? Surprise, surprise." Kuroba Kaito smiled briefly at the glitter of a cameral-lens that was _almost _concealed well enough behind the edge of a shelf before turning a Poker Face to the room. "I've passed your tests, all of 'em right up to this one, 'Fire'. And I think I get what you're asking me here. This… it's all about whether or not I can pay the piper, right?" He waved one hand at the rows of pictures and coins. "But that's not all that it's about; there's more. It took me a while to figure it out."

"You know what I'm mixed up in; from what I understand, you've been watching me for years now, and you knew who killed my dad." The young thief's face stayed composed, but his eyes gave off a faint, unearthly gleam for a second. "I've got my own questions to ask the Kuroba Clan about that—like why nobody came for me and Mom afterwards, why Dad's killers went free, why there wasn't any attempt to contact me when I started this whole Kid thing… Oh yeah; lots of questions. Lots of questions."

"And you, _YOU_ want me to put my little brass token right there, don't you?" Anyone who was unfamiliar with the Kid's famous Poker Face might have been fooled into thinking that his expression just then was a smile. "You want me to promise myself to the family—promise what I do'll be for the clan and the people in it, people I haven't even met, people who so far as I know don't give a flying fat damn about me and what I care about. I mean," and he actually laughed a little, "what kind of evidence do I have that they do?"

Silence. The pictures looked on, their eyes peering through the dust of years. They seemed to be waiting.

"But, y'know, I started thinking about why I've been jumping through all these hoops for you, and….. it's all a trade, isn't it? An exchange. You want me; I want answers. You're asking to give myself and my future away to you; I'm asking you to explain _why the hell you didn't come to Dad's funeral._ And other things." Kaito's words were cool but not cold. "I remember what Jii told me when I got here: he said that this was my home. What he didn't say was 'You've got to pay with your life for all that info you want'; he said it was up to _me_ to make it my home, that it wasn't up to you—and…"

(no, not cold; Poker Face or not, he couldn't stop the rush of emotion, or the tremor in his tired voice)

"…and he said, 'I wish your father could be here today, to see you coming home.' He said that too. And—well, I'm here."

* * *

"Kuroba-san, I need to go to him. I could explain; you said that I'd be the one to bring him here—"

"I know, Aoko-chan, but please: wait just a little longer. This is always the hardest part. Just a little longer; he has to understand—and I think perhaps he does. Trust him just a little longer."

* * *

Sure of his audience, the young thief kept talking in the lamp-lit room full of _iei_. He had always done his best work in front of a crowd, even a small one; it calmed his nerves.

…a fact which explained a lot about his current lifestyle, when you got right down to it…

It all made sense, now that he had a moment to think; the certainty had grown inside of him like a flower in the dark, grown so strong that it had to come out into the light in words. "So… if I'm really home, _really_ home….. If I've proven I'm part of the Kuroba Clan and all….." (his fist clenched tight on the disc of brass) "you don't need this, do you? This promise isn't for you; it's for me." He swallowed a breath of the dusty air. "This coin's not a payment; it's a _placeholder;_ it's your promise to me that you'll back me up, not a promise of slavery from me to you. That's the reason for all these damned tests: not some sort of stupid weighing-in to find out if I was suitable Kuroba material--" (and Kaito snorted) "—uh uh. It was to find out if I was determined enough to see things through, to… come home."

"And that makes a lot more sense than just making me jump through hoops like some sort of trained monkey." For the first time, Kaito's gaze turned to meet his father's photographed eyes, smiling faintly; he did not flinch. "Am I right?"

The words hung in the room, waiting for an answer. The young man who looked so much like Kuroba Toichi laughed a little, so softly it was hardly more than a thread of sound. "So. Here's your placeholder. I wouldn't want to cheat you out of holding me a nice funeral someday, y'know." And he placed the coin where it belonged, right in front of the empty picture frame on the very end of the row.

"Ready or not," Kuroba Kaito whispered: "Here I come…"

And behind him a door opened.

* * *

"Good. He _understands._ Go on, Aoko-san; Mika-chan will show you the way."

* * *

Behind her a door closed. _I'm coming, Kaito._

She came down the hall, moving rapidly in light, soft shoes. The fabric of Nakamori Aoko's dark blue kimono hissed against itself as she moved; a pattern of pure white maple leaves seemed to flutter against the blue, until their pallor flickered in the darkened hallway like stars peeking through indigo clouds.

_It took you so long to get here-- What did you do, stop to rob a bank on the way?_

Her footsteps on the wooden floor seemed loud, louder than the pulse in her ears; Aoko could not walk as silently as the peculiar family that had surrounded her from the moment she had arrived, and their noise bothered her: _tap, tap-tap, tap._ Sounds were so sharp now— tiny things weren't exactly _louder_ or anything, she could just hear them now. And voices were more distinct, different—

Kaito's voice…

When he had been talking in the _iei_ room, he had sounded a lot more like the Kid than like Kaito. It made Aoko almost afraid of what she would see when she finally saw him again. She had accepted (almost) the Kid (almost) now; she had had to. But—

Down the hall now (a very chilly hall—didn't the Kurobas believe in central heating?), two turns and up the steps to the third door on the right; that was what Mika-chan had said.

_--but I want to see **Kaito**, not the thief in the idiot monocle. I want Kaito back and in one piece._ And inside, the Inspector's daughter shied away at just how much she wanted him with her…

It felt very stupidly romantic, and she was _not_ stupidly romantic. Flushing, she tugged her obi a little straighter as she turned a corner; she was Nakamori Aoko, not some bubble-headed kimono'd leading-lady twit in a low-budget film or shojo manga…

…except… she really DID want to see Kaito. Maybe there was something to be said for a just a _little_ romance, even if it did make her feel stupid.

_Please be Kaito; you can be the Kid later. Just be Kaito for me now._

She walked faster. And—

--_there he was_, waiting in the doorway of the third door on the right. Smiling at her with that little smile of his that he seemed to hold in reserve for her only. Everybody else got the large, beaming grins, cockeyed or goofy or confident to the point of illegality; but the little smile, the slightly crooked one that went with that _look_ in his eyes: that one was hers alone.

"H-hi," she stammered, skidding to a stop.

"Hi yourself," he said back from his place in the doorway, still smiling.

He looked… tired; scuffed around the edges like a well-worn shoe, with fine lines of weariness bracketing his expression. A smudge of soot blackened one cheekbone, and there was something green and weedy dried in his hair above one ear; but he looked better than anything that she had seen in—well, a while. And even better, he was _Kaito_ (her Kaito, her mind whispered; forcibly Aoko shoved the thought down.)

He was still smiling at her.

"Um…" Suddenly a little awkward over the whole I'm-indecently-glad-to-see-you, Aoko found herself tugging at her obi again. "I was beginning to think you had abandoned me to the wolves or something—" she said, fidgeting with her tie; the tassled ends were threatening to unravel.

Kaito (and it _was_ Kaito, not the Kid; the Inspector's daughter was sure of it) cocked his head to one side and simply looked at her; a slow smile bloomed in his eyes, though his face remained solemn. "Is that any way to talk about my relatives?" He gave her formal outfit an appreciative look. "'Sides, I don't think we have wolves in Japan anymore. Dragons, though… We're both dressed just right for a fairytale, aren't we? Is this the part of the story where I save you from a dragon?"

Aoko rolled her own eyes, fighting back a giggle; the cold hallway was suddenly a lot less chilly. "Kaito, we're _Japanese._ In Japanese fairytales, everybody dies nobly all over the place."

"Oh. Let's not do that, then. I'd rather write our own stories, anyway." Kaito leaned casually against the doorjamb, arms crossed; he made an elegant figure in his traditional clothing (or he would have, if he hadn't had so much dust in his wild hair. Instead, he looked rather like a little girl's doll that had fallen off its display shelf and then been dragged around a bit by the cat.) Stepping forward, the prodigal son of the Kuroba clan offered a courteous elbow. "So… want to introduce me to my relatives?"

The young woman gravely accepted, tucking her hand firmly in and managing to keep her face straight despite the bubble of laughter that seemed to be welling up inside her. "Mmhm. You know, Kaito, your family has the weirdest customs…."

Kaito closed his eyes briefly; one corner of his mouth twitched as he controlled a strong reaction. "No, _**really**?"_ The Inspector's daughter stifled a snort. "I guess if they're too horrible we could run off to China or something— Betcha there's room for a phantom thief in the Hong Kong area. Think about it—you, me, the entire HK police force… It'd be great, wouldn't it? Until your father came after us and tore my head off with his bare hands, I mean. Either way, we wouldn't have to worry about my family anymore."

"They'd find us. They're GOOD at surveillance. And they have ninjas."

"Yeah, I kind of worked that one out… anyway, I don't speak Chinese. Guess we're doomed, huh?"

"It could be worse. They could be _my_ relatives."

"Erk. Bring on the dragons…" _WHAP!_ "Ow!"

Arm in arm, the thief and the Inspector's daughter walked down the hall towards their dreadful fate.

_

* * *

_

To be continued…..

_**Ysabet's Notes:** Took me long enough to get this chapter out, didn't it? But! Not as long as it took me to get the LAST one out! Hah! Sorry about the delay, though; it's been a busy last few months. My extreme thanks to everybody who sent me get-well wishes along with your reviews—they must've worked, because I am now finished with chemo and am healing nicely._

_BTW, the Nezumi Castle mentioned in this chapter is totally fictional. Many thanks to poor Icka M. Chif, whose brains I cudgeled in order to get as much info about nightingale floors as possible—they're fascinating, and I'd love to see one myself. Any errors in my descriptions are solely to be attributed to Yours Truly and nobody else. The forge in the 'Fire' bit of this chapter is based on one from another manga series, Ushio to Tora (rawwwwwr!), one of my favorites; and yes, that's pretty much how they used to smelt metal._

_Hopefully everybody's enjoyed the Peanut-Gallery way in which I introduced the Family Kuroba; it wasn't easy, I probably drove several readers insane with it, but I had a lot of fun doing it like that. Ummm…. Let's see, what else? Oh—the song Kaito sings while on the rooftop is called "Boom" and it's by Trinket; there's a great Slayers AMV out using that song. And, oh yeah, one more thing: I keep forgetting to put a disclaimer in this fic. So—(deep breath)—Conan, Ran, Kaito, Jii, Kaito's mom, Aoko and the rest of the canon characters are NOT mine, they belong to The Great And Magnificent Gosho Aoyama (kowtow, kowtow, kowtow). I'm just playing with them. On the other hand, Great-Uncle Kuroba Kuehiko, Great-Aunt Kuroba Ariake, Shunmei, Kuroba Mika and Kuroba Rakkaiji and the rest of the Clan household are all mine—but if anybody wants to play with them, send me an email!_

_Next time: Okay, we've spent enough hours with the Kurobas. Do y'all realize that the past two chapters happened all during the course of a single day and night? Eeeergh. Back to Conan and the rest now (though I can promise you that Kaito and his family will be very much a part of things as well). The plot is thickening, and the bad guys are growing impatient; and when that happens, somebody's going to bleed….._

_**This chapter belongs to my friends Icka M. Chif and Morgan; Happy Birthday, you evil women!**_


	22. Refresher Course

**_Chapter 22: Refresher Course_**

_Tune me in to the wild side of life:  
I'm an innocent young child sharp as a knife…_

_( Elton John, "This Song Has No Title)  
_

And just what had been happening back in Beika City during Kaito's family visit?

Would you really like to know?

Why not? And to begin with, a time-table might be helpful. Let us look back at events and reflect…..

On Monday, October 28th, a certain Phantom Thief and his accomplices (i.e., Jii and the Inspector's Daughter) had been preparing for their assault on the Kyoto Botanical Gardens, not without trepidation on the aforementioned Inspector's Daughter's part.

On Tuesday, October 29th, said assault had gone through without—well, one couldn't say 'without a hitch', not unless one had no fear of lightning-bolts via divine wrath or of one's pants catching on fire (as in 'Liar, Liar, etc.') However, it _had _happened, no-one among the good guys had been seriously hurt, and a great, great deal had been learned by all parties involved. Nakamori Aoko had taken her first fledgling steps into a life of crime (however half-unwillingly), her father had learned not to go walking in dark alleys without police backup, and Kuroba Kaito had learned that improbable legends about mystical gems frequently don't tell the half of it.

And Nakamori had taken three prisoners. Someone was going to be _really upset_ about that…

On Wednesday, October 30th, Kaito had seen off Aoko and Jii on a family visit; he had then gone back to Beika City, found that his house had been a) burglarized by Black Organization operatives who had attached a bomb to his front door, and b) burglarized _again_ by two members of what he privately called the 'Short Brigade', who had disarmed the bomb and then raided his kitchen. The Phantom Thief had then fallen on his face for a while, gotten back up, tidied things away for a prolonged excursion out-of-town, and escorted his guests back towards their own home through circuitous routes. In the process, he had also scared the wits out of them by looking at them funny and had then explained a few things about why it's best to handle mystical gems with gloves and NOT to utilize them as a beverage flavoring. Afterwards, Kaito had paid a very late, very informative call on Ayumi and then set out to visit his relatives.

On Thursday, October 31st, having been briefed by Jii-san as to a bit of family history, Kaito had at last arrived at the familial estate at roughly sundown. He had then been left to make his way within, in the process getting the wits scared out of himself in turn and dealing with traps, a piece of zucchini, fish, a ninja, spikes, wet underwear and a really alarming amount of personal angst. After overcoming (or at least coming to terms with) these obstacles, the young magician had met up with the girl of his dreams—excuse me, 'with Nakamori Aoko the Inspector's Daughter' (who had found herself somewhat at a loss as to how to deal with an _entire family_ of kaitou)—and had marched off to meet his doom—pardon, that is, 'marched off to meet his family.' Of course.

There.

A lot can happen in four days…

…but that's it so far. Everybody up to date? Excellent.

And now… beginning with the morning of Thursday, October 31st, a normal day more or less in Japan but known to certain parts of the world as Halloween…..

Parks are good for stress.

It doesn't matter if you're a high-level executive, a dock-worker, a 9-to-5 clerk or a postmaturely-aged (as opposed to 'prematurely' aged) child detective… large expanses of green grass and open sky are good for mind and body. Which explained why the Shonen Tantei were currently inhabiting the swing-sets after school again…

…not at the same park as usual, of course. It said something, thought Conan from his place beside Rin, about the mindsets of his schoolmates when they could so easily accept "The regular place isn't safe anymore, remember? Let's go someplace else this time!" without a qualm. Most kids were afraid of the Monster Beneath The Bed; for Ayumi, Mitsuhiko and Genta, the monsters wore black trenchcoats and carried guns.

Not that this seemed to slow them down much.

The Japanese do not, as a rule, celebrate the final day of October in particular. It's a Western thing, the jack-o-lanterns, costumes and massive candy stockpiles; the Japanese remember their dead in August at O-bon or in smaller festivals, and they tell their ghost stories in high summer. However, give any group of kids the slightest excuse to put on a costume and gobble candy, and poof! You have an instant New Favorite Holiday on your hands.

Genta (predictably) was the one to lobby for actual Trick-Or-Treating, but Mitsuhiko was the one who read about it first, out loud from a book he had brought with him in his backpack; the freckled boy's eyes had gone alarmingly gleeful as he looked up from the page and launched a rapid-fire report of Halloween through the eyes of an 8-year-old. "—you get to put on COSTUMES and get CANDY for it, 'cause you go from door to door and yell _TRICK OR TREAT!_ and then people hand out sweets and stuff to keep evil spirits away, that's us in the costumes, like when we throw red beans to drive off Oni, you know—and there's things in here about pranks you can pull, like writing on people's windows with soap or—"

The two less-vocal members of the conversation looked at each other, swings slowing to a halt, mutually thinking _UH-oh…_

"What if they don't have any candy?" That was Genta, fascinated but worried.

The other boy frowned, momentarily nonplussed, then brightened. "That's when you do a trick instead, I guess. Look, you can _draw_ things on people's _windows_ with soap, or you can—" (Conan sighed and exchanged another look with Rin; Mitsuhiko was apparently a budding graffitist.)

"What if you'd rather do a trick?" _That_ was Ayumi, sounding thoughtful; she scuffed her shoes in a scatter of fallen leaves. "I know some better stuff than just drawing on people's windows… Hei-san told me about things he did when he was a kid. If we got a couple of bananas and some duct-tape—or a potato, he said you could use a potato—we could maybe—um…" The girl looked at Conan, whose eyes had suddenly gone very wide. "Conan-kun, Mouri-tantei doesn't have a car, though, does he?" she asked innocently. The boy sputtered, and Rin's jaw dropped.

"I guess not. Agasa-sensei does, though," remarked Genta with a gleam in his eyes. "What kind of trick is it, Ayumi-kun? It wouldn't keep him from giving us candy, would it?"

"It's really neat; first you take a banana or a potato and you shove it up the pipe that comes out from under the back of the car, and then you use the tape to—"

"We are NOT doing things to my f—my uncle's car, even if he had one, OR to poor Agasa-san's!" broke in Rin, trying not to laugh. "Or anybody else's! Ayumi, that's _not_ nice. I can't believe you'd even think of doing something like that, even as a joke—you know better than that! --Conan, SAY something!" She turned to the boy at her side (who had by now covered his eyes with his hands and was muttering something to himself.)

He looked up. "If it wasn't your dad's car, I wouldn't be so tempted… Ow! Okay, okay-- Just be glad he didn't tell her how to do the Port-and-Starboard trick…" The former teenager was suddenly the focus of three very intent gazes and one rueful one. "Uh—never mind."

"COnan-kuuuunn, TELL us! Please?"

"Stop holding out! What's 'poto' and 'staborudo'?"

"I think those are parts of a boat, Genta— C'mon, Conan-kun, tell us!"

Rin grabbed her protesting compatriot by the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer. "If you tell them how to do that one, I'll never forgive you," she hissed. "I remember when you pulled that on me in Third Grade; do _you_ remember what I did to you afterwards?" Conan winced in reply. "Good, you do remember. I'm just about the same size I was then, and I'll bet I could do it again if I _really wanted_ to. Got that?" The former Mouri Ran let go of his ear as the boy nodded hurriedly. "Fine."

She turned back to their audience. "Conan-kun and I have a little something we need to talk about," Rin announced firmly, "and he's totally forgotten how to do the Port-and-Starboard trick—_haven't _you, Conan-kun?— so never mind that one, okay? We'll see you in a little while." With that, she frog-marched the hapless boy off towards a nearby set of monkey-bars and away from any hope of escape. Genta, Mitsuhiko and Ayumi watched them go, faces downcast.

"Awwwww MAN."

"Rin-kun's being a bully…"

Ayumi merely looked thoughtful again; she shoved her hands into her pockets, fingering the juggling-stones that she had stashed there that morning. "I wonder if I could find a book on pranks when we do Library Class tomorrow?" she murmured. Her two friends stopped complaining and _looked_ at her. "I bet I could… Hei-san told me that he found all sorts of good stuff in libraries. He said—" and she pulled out the stones, cupping them carefully in each palm before starting a simple back-and-forth two-stone routine, "—that you can learn about almost _anything_ in a library. He even—oops!—" (a glittering, clear-as-ice stone was missed; Ayumi picked it up and started all over again) "—said that some people juggle _books. _I don't know how to do that yet, though. They'd be heavy." The gradeschooler still fumbled her tosses a little, but she was rapidly improving, as the oscillating eyeballs of her two-person audience showed.

"When are you gonna teach _us_ how to do that?"

Ayumi's grin had a tilt to it that Conan would have recognized, much to his horror. "When I stop worrying about dropping them. That's what Hei-san said: you get really good at doing stuff when you stop worrying about making mistakes and just DO it." She caught the two stones neatly in one hand with a click. "And I'm not good enough yet..."

She started another juggling pattern.

"…but I'm learning…"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The shrieks and sudden-collision noises of the park might as well have been the most expensive sound-blocking system on the planet for all that an eavesdropper could have gotten past it, had there been one. As it was, the two faux-gradeschoolers weren't taking chances; so now they were hanging out in the middle of it all.

Quite literally 'hanging'; the Monkey Bars were a popular place today.

The Port-and-Starboard prank had been firmly put into a well-deserved grave by Rin; and the pair's thoughts had turned to other things. "So what's Hattori-kun up to?" asked Rin, swinging upside down with her hair blown across her face. "You didn't say this morning before school." Her companion shot her a reluctant grin; the not-really-a-little-girl was almost _too_ good at being a kid again sometimes… She was looking more and more at ease with it these days, too, so much like she had the first time around—

With a jerk he dragged his mind back to the present, and Hattori Heiji. "Uhh—not sure. Probably driving his father up the wall, if anything; I know he was going to try and talk to Nakamori-keibu today. And he had some sort of lunch date... no, _not_ with Kazuha-kun—I think it had to do with a case." Hattori Senior had been trying to interest his son in following in his footsteps for years; and Heiji had only been allowed to take a couple of days off from school after promising to talk to a police 'recruiter' of sorts. The Osakajin had arrived a lot later the previous evening than he had planned—something about a last-minute delay—and had barely stayed awake long enough to call in before heading for bed at the hotel where he and his parents were staying, yawning. A phone-call at an obscenely early hour the next morning had been much more involved, however, and Conan had had the chance to explain quite a few things—not the least of which had to do with the three prisoners in Nakamori's custody. "He'll be here through the weekend at least, maybe longer; and the poor guy's going to have it rough stalling his dad this time," murmured Conan, hitching himself up onto a crossbar; he shoved his glasses into place and leaned back, balancing. "I just wish his father would give up before Hattori loses his temper and says something they'll both regret."

"Mm." Rin pulled herself back upright, legs dangling, a small frown on her face. One slightly grubby hand smoothed her hair back. "I guess… But he is Heiji-kun's father; I suppose he just wants what he sees as best for his son, doesn't he?"

"What he _wants_ is to keep him under his thumb," said Conan dryly. He settled back, eyeing the girl. "You know, you'd better be glad you're not wearing a skirt today if you're going to sit like that," the boy told her, fighting back a grin; "or you'd be showing off what color underwear you've got on today to an awful lot of interested kids."

Rin sniffed, nose tilted up in a good imitation of hauteur; she sounded remarkably like Ayumi in a snit. _"They_ wouldn't care, they're not _pervy teenagers_ like some people I know…"

She had caught a little of he and Heiji's phone-conversation two nights before, when the topic had drifted to a certain calendar that the Osakajin had just picked up. It had just come out in the newsstands, and (Conan remembered) they had been discussing the picture for July in detail (maybe a little too much detail, actually, now that he thought about it…) "Ra—Rin, it's an ATHLETIC calendar."

"Don't give me that, I've seen it. Sonoko has a copy." The brown-haired girl folded her arms and mock-glared at him. _"'Hot Sports Babes' _ isn't exactly what I'd call an 'athletic calendar'. It's not like any of them are wearing enough to make a uniform, even in the baseball photos. _Especially_ the baseball photos…"

Conan had to give her that; the catcher's mitts had been the largest items in the models' outfits (not that he was going to _admit_ it, but…) After a moment a thought occurred to him, and he blinked. "—Sonoko--? Why on earth does _she--?"_

"She confiscated it from her father's briefcase." Rin looked smug. "And this morning Mom put my dad's copy through her paper-shredder."

Abandoning any brief thoughts of calendar-rescue with an internal sigh of regret (a teenager was a teenager, no matter how short they might be, after all), the boy shrugged and shoved his glasses back up his nose. Subject-change time-- "I wonder what Kuroba's doing right now?" he wondered out loud, hooking one leg around a bar.

"Probably—mmph—bugging Nakamori-keibu's phone—nngh!—or something like that—" Conan eyed Rin's attempts to swing herself back upright with some concern. "I wonder how long he'll be away frommmAAACK!" _Thud!_

"You were saying?" asked the boy.

"Mmmph. I was _saying_ that—ow—that I wonder how long he'll be gone," answered the girl from her position flat on the ground beneath the jungle-gym. Rin blinked up through a tangle of hair and tucked her hands beneath her head. "Ayumi-chan's already fretting—" Rubbing at the back of her head, the faux gradeschooler climbed to her feet and dusted herself off. "I wonder how much she's figured out? About… the things we were told in the tunnels…?"

"……………………."

"She's not stupid, you know; Ayumi-chan's awfully smart for her age, and Genta-kun and Mitsuhiko-kun… I think they're starting to suspect that something's wrong."

"………………………….."

"Conan? You're being quiet; that was never a good thing when we were kids the first time around…?"

The boy slid down from his perch on the bars with a grimace. "I _know_ she's not stupid; that's what's worrying me." Hands in his pockets, he turned to stare back towards their school. Distant figures were grouped around one small, dark-haired one, who was quite clearly juggling. "No matter how bright she is, though, she's still a kid and she's still vulnerable—"

"—and we're _not?"_

"Rrrgh…"

Rin stepped up behind him, leaning very gently against his shoulder, watching while Ayumi-in-the-distance dropped her stones and scrambled around laughing as she gathered them up again. "All we can do right now," she said softly, "is look out for her the best we can. If she's going to figure things out, then it's better that she does it with friends nearby, isn't it?"

To that, Conan could only nod.

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And right about then, across town in a borrowed chair in a borrowed office…

…Hattori Heiji sat, feet propped in front of him and hat slouched low over his eyes, contemplating the infinite.

At least that's what he would have told Kazuha he was doing, had she asked; to his father he would have just given a noncommittal grunt, and to his mother he would have just shrugged before removing his feet from the desk and pushing back his hat.

He had a lot to contemplate, actually; okay, it might not have been _infinite_ per se, but—

Restlessly, the Detective of the West pushed himself back from the desk with the toe of one dirty sneaker; his feet hit the floor with a _thump!_ of rubber soles as he leaned forward to pick up a pen and continue writing on the notepad in front of him. A name was jotted down there, along with any number of squiggles and angular, sketchy doodles:

'_Hakuba Saguru'._

Lunch with the other amateur detective had been… interesting. Looking back on it, Hattori Heiji could not be certain if what had occurred had been a good thing or something he would regret for quite some time to come—He had gotten the call the night before, and really, he thought to himself, the only reason he hadn't invited Kudo along had been because of the poor guy's school schedule. Scowling, the Osakajin leaned back in his father's borrowed office-chair, swiveling a little; _Man, what a waste—I don't know why Kudo hasn't completely lost it, stuck back among the crayons all over again. Guess it's easier on him with Ran—uh, Rin—there now, though…_

With an effort, Heiji wrenched his thoughts back to business; they kept veering, and he knew why. _Kudo, you need to be here for this especially—but I'll be damned if I can figure out how I could get you in there, even if you weren't stuck in kiddie-purgatory--_ He had a little job waiting for him downstairs, one that had been a long time coming.

But-- lunch. Right—

---

_The blond half-Brit had already been at the café by the time Heiji arrived; he had seen him checking a pocket-watch through the window. Thank God, Heiji had thought, he's not wearing that tweed coat/duster/thing— "Hattori-san?" 'Agonizingly polite' was the first impression he had gotten as the other stood and bowed; 'Dweeb' might have been the second, if not for the razor-sharp edge of scrutiny from those guarded, amber eyes… _

_And those eyes had stayed sharp, too. Funny thing, Heiji had also thought to himself; he wasn't used to dealing with anybody else like this, nobody except Kudo… and, well. There was the chibi-sized problem and all-- But this was someone else his apparent age and size and who had the same kind of tendency to focus on a mystery. Different; not-Kudo and different. Interesting._

_The guy had been bright, that was for damn sure. Smart as hell, good instincts, and not afraid to show how much he knew._

_They had talked about the heist, compared theories—or danced around comparing theories, that is. Neither one had been quite willing to lay everything out in the open that they knew, that had been obvious; this had been a 'fishing' expedition on the blond detective's part, a way to check out a possible source of information…_

…_or a possible leak. You never knew. Just because the two of them had been mutual 1412-captives on a rooftop, there was no reason for them to automatically trust each other. Still… they were both good at what they did, and neither of them were stupid enough to turn down help in catching the Kid (or, in Heiji's case, bringing down the Black Organization); so by the time the dishes had been cleared away, a tentative balance had been reached between the Osakajin and the half-Brit. They would each continue their own investigations and, occasionally, if one or the other felt like calling and comparing notes, well, there was nothing wrong with that._

_Like Heiji had thought to himself, Hakuba knew a hell of a lot. _

_After the other had said his courteous goodbyes and left, Hattori had sat for a while, drinking cup after cup of café coffee and staring into space. And thinking about trust._

_Kudo and him—_

_Kudo and Heiji had started out as… competitors? Rivals? Maybe; but they had come to respect each other for their mutual skills, and respect had become friendship, and then friendship had become trust (despite Kudo's well-earned sense of paranoia.) It hadn't had much to do with intellect in the end; it had had a lot more to do with gut-feeling—you went with what your instincts told you and built from there._

_And now, trust was something that Hattori Heiji knew a lot about, thanks to Kudo._

_Hakuba Saguru was an intelligent guy; no doubt about it. Well educated, self-taught and trained, methodical, even brilliant in his own Holmesian way. Yeah, he knew a lot about a lot of things. But…_

…_but… somehow after their meeting, Heiji had gotten the feeling that trust just wasn't something that Hakuba Saguru knew much about at all._

---

Trust…

Some of the things Kudo had told him that morning—Where the hell was he getting _HIS_ information from, anyway? Okay, so they had Black Org prisoners at last; fantastic, wonderful, all kinds of great—

--but now Kudo was telling him things that they had never discussed before… things like a possible reason why nobody had ever taken one of the operatives alive before. Something about 'counterparts'. And… _two_ factions of the organization, one older and one newer? Originating in India, of all places? Heiji supposed it wasn't that unlikely, given some of the other criminal operations that had sprung from the roots of the opium trade, but where was he GETTING all this?

And what did it have to do with the Kaitou Kid?

_When I started telling him what the thief told me on the Conservatory roof, he flinched; and that was Just. Plain. Weird. Kudo's lost most of his flinching reflexes by now; what made him react?_

Hell if Heiji knew. But hell if he wasn't going to find out, one way or another…

Right now, though… he had a job to do.

It had taken less trouble to get him an interview with the two remaining prisoners than he would have thought—oh yeah, and why only two? he had asked, remembering that three had been taken in custody from the park. What had happened to the third one?

The officers in charge hadn't wanted to say, not that he had blamed them when he had found out why—especially with Hattori Heizo looming over Heiji's shoulder like the Wrath of God. Explaining that one of your valuable prisoners had somehow managed to _keel over dead for no apparent reason_ while in a holding cell was not something anyone would want to do.

The dead man was currently in the morgue back in Tokyo PD's central headquarters; the remaining prisoners had been removed from the area for their own good, and Beika City had been as good as any place, Heiji supposed; decent security record and so forth, and maybe they were going to try to drag Mouri in on the investigation? Who knew? At least it was convenient.

Anyway—

The holding cells were down two levels from Heiji's father's borrowed office, and as the elevator dropped he wondered where Hattori Heizo was. _Probably looking for a bigger carrot,_ he thought sourly, _or maybe a bigger stick._ So far none of the police recruiters had gotten very far with his son; Hattori Senior had been insistent and Hattori Junior had agreed to listen in a reasonable fashion…

_…but nobody ever said I had to pay attention,_ he thought smugly as the elevator doors opened.

There was a checkpoint in the hall and door security as well; the local bigwigs weren't taking any chances. Heiji totally approved, considering Kudo and his suspicions about Black Org infiltration among the Force. The more bodies around, the less likely it was that anybody would make a move—

(an eyebrow slowly rose up beneath his baseball cap)

--and actually… that gave him an idea. He had been wondering how to get the two remaining prisoners to talk—

"Fifteen minutes? And—alone, okay?" he asked one of the cops stationed outside the door.

The man looked nervous. "Hattori-san, I'm not supposed to let anyone in there without an officer…"

His voice trailed off as the second officer nudged him; Heiji recognized the man from cases in the past and gave him a friendly nod—Megure's assistant, or that thin detective's—Takagi, wasn't it? Sort of a thick-set, pudgy guy with a plain, easy-to-forget face, an asset he supposed if you were doing plainclothes work... _Uhhh… Chikowa? Chisaka? Chi-something, I know it is—_

His hesitation must have shown in his face, since the man gave him a faint grin. "Chiba Keichi, Hattori-san; we met a while back during that kidnapping case in Ise—you remember?"

_Oh yeah, right, got it. _Chiba-san had worked undercover in that particular case; apparently he specialized in it. No wonder; ordinariness practically oozed from the stocky man's pores. "I remember; thanks, Chiba-san. So…?" He gestured at the door. "I was in on the case where they picked 'em up; maybe that'll help…" Heiji trailed off hopefully, and the two looked at one another.

The first officer caved. "… I guess since you're already involved—" He shrugged, unlocking the door. "Ten minutes, though. Press the button on the desk if you need anything."

---

He closed the door behind him quietly. Alert as two sullen, watchful birds in their plexiglass cage, the two prisoners glared at Hattori Heiji silently as he leaned back casually against the doorframe, hands tucked into his pockets. _I have to make this good,_ he thought to himself past the burn of anger that wanted nothing more than to strangle them both; _They're going to be suspicious as all hell. Sure hope this works... If we're right, it will; if we're not, hell, what can I lose?_ Heiji crossed his arms, leveled a cold look at the other two, and said two words:

"**_Black. Organization."_**

The effect was instantaneous. Both men stiffened, the taller, younger one of the two drawing in a sharp breath. The young detective nodded to himself. "Yeah… What's wrong? Did you two think nobody would come for you?"

_It's working. They think I'm, what? One of them? Something like that. Careful, Hattori, careful; gotta push this further-- _The two prisoners were visibly sweating now, and the one who had drawn the breath swallowed hard. "I guess you both know what happens next," Heiji said slowly, shoving one hand deeper into his pocket as if digging something out…..

_The others that killed themselves had guns; I'm willing to bet that poison's an option too, though. And if what Kudo thinks is true, then these guys expect me to give them cyanide or something similar. But WHY are they so eager to die? What's worth that kind of loyalty? A 'counterpart', he said—and there's the relatives thing— Wish he'd told me more. Dammit, Kudo, we need to TALK._ Heiji's hand emerged from the pocket holding something wrapped tight in a fist; both men's eyes followed it with a sort of horrified fascination.

_Let's fish a little further--_ "You two, uh, got anything you want me to pass along? Messages?"

The taller one swallowed again; it took him a moment to get his voice working. "—My wife," he said hoarsely; "Tell her I—just tell her I—tell her to take care of herself." The man looked away, breathing hard. "Shit. Just… shit."

_Shimatta… Hostages? Kudo really was right._ Heiji pulled his scattered wits together after a second or so and merely nodded. He looked at the darker, smaller man. "You?"

The other stared back stolidly; there was a wariness in his eyes that didn't seem to want to budge. "You say you've come for us? Why should we believe you?" The man crossed his arms and nodded at Heiji. "I know you; you're that Osaka bigshot's son, the one that keeps showing up in the papers—you solve murders, you're all buddy-buddy with the goddamn cops all the time-- Why should we believe you're anybody we should trust?"

The Osakajin snorted, crossing his arms. "Who said anything about trust?" Outwardly he was calm; inside, his mind was racing. _Gotta make this look good. Why would I be one of—ah; got it. _He gave them a thin smile, one that died before it ever reached his eyes. "You two _know_ where the Organization recruits from; a high-level cop's family's good cover, isn't it? Best kind; nobody'd even think of looking there for a mole. And…" Heiji's voice dropped lower; his face was tight as he held out his fist, opening it flat to reveal two small, grey capsules. "…there are all sorts of reasons to cooperate when they… invite you to sign up, aren't there? Family relationships are part of it; you know that. Hard to refuse when they've got that to hold over you. And then there's the benefits, too… and last of all, d'you two think you're the only ones with people you want to protect?"

The older man looked at him, eyes narrowing. "Green eyes and dark skin," he muttered; "Yeah, you could be one of his-- How many generations out are you?"

_'How many—' What the hell's he talking about now? 'His'? 'Generations'? Uhh--_ Heiji fought the urge to blink and shook his head. "No time for that; we gotta make this quick. The guards only gave me ten minutes, and I can't afford to fail _my_ mission. You two want these or not?"

The two men stared at the capsules, barely breathing. But after a moment, the older one nodded slowly.

_Good thing this is an older-style holding cell, _thought Heiji a minute later, carefully pushing the second of the two capsules through one of the circular pattern of holes dotting the plexiglass. They were just barely large enough to allow the things through, and if they had been in one of the newer, microphone-equipped cells, he wasn't quite sure _what_ he would've done. Two hands took the capsules, both shaking just a little. "Okay, last chance—messages? I'll be reporting in tonight," he improvised, watching as the younger of the two prisoners dry-swallowed his and leaned back against the wall, face twitching with nerves.

The older man sat there, capsule loosely cupped in his palm, a bleak look on his face. "Only that their retirement plan sucks," he muttered savagely before looking up. "Hey, kid?"

"Yeah?"

"Get out of it if you can. Any way you can. Any way at all."

The cupped hand raised; as the capsule was swallowed, dark eyes closed and then reopened, flat and exhausted and strangely clear. For one long moment, the man's craggy, harsh face seemed to waver and fade into someone younger, someone not that different from Heiji, like a mask sliding free. "And… tell my kids to do the same thing, okay?"

_His kids? God--_

"And your wife?"

The man shook his head. "She died years ago… for me. Like my dad died for his kids, like I'm dying for mine. Doesn't seem right; there's got to be a better way than this… No matter what they told you when they pulled you in, there's got to be something better." He drew a halting breath and shrugged, settling himself back again as his harsh mask slid back into place. "Never mind. Doesn't matter anyway, does it? They win. They always win; always have, always will."

Beside him, his fellow prisoner had begun to shiver uncontrollably. His fingers were locked together, writhing in a tight knot of flesh and bone as he fought to keep some semblance of control. "H-how long will it take to work?" he whispered; what he didn't say was _'Will it hurt?'_ He didn't have to.

_…I hate this. These guys really think I've just poisoned them both. Okay, this has gone too far--_

A knock on the door made all three jump. Heiji nodded at the guard through the little window, then turned to regard the two prisoners as the electronic lock popped open. "How long? Dunno. Most vitamin-C capsules are time-release, aren't they?"

"W-_what? _Vitamin…C….? **_WHAT?_** You, you said you were— one of us—"

Hattori Heiji grinned darkly, one hand on the door. "When did I ever say that?" he inquired. "I said I was there for you, and I offered you some vitamins; did I ever say they were poison? Did I ever actually _SAY_ that?"

Silence. Two pairs of eyes stared at him, then at each other, then back at him again…

The Osakajin opened the door. "And now that you know that _I_ know about you," he said casually over one shoulder, "you both might want to do a little thinking. Who knows? A little cooperation might go a long, long way… all the way to where your wife and your kids are, maybe far enough to keep 'em safe. What've you got to lose… now? You never know."

_…and it's a good thing Kazuha's been nagging me to take extra C, isn't it? And that I forgot to take 'em this morning? Funny how these things work out._

He closed the door on dead silence.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Learn anything good?" That was Chiba-san again, munching on a bag of chips; the guy always seemed to be eating...

Heiji shrugged as he pulled the door to. "Not sure… Maybe, maybe not. Uhh, Chiba-san? And—Takuto-san, right?" he asked, digging the other's name from some recess in his mind. "Look, do either of you know where my father might be?" The very, very last thing he wanted to do right now was to run into his father—

Fortunately, it looked like Hattori Senior was going to be tied up in interdepartmental meetings for the next hour or two. "Hm; okay." The Detective of the West tugged his cap down a little lower, chewing on his lip and thinking hard. "One more question… You know that guy who's in charge of the Kaito Kid investigation, Nakamori-keibu? I need to talk to him for a minute if he's free…"

_…and maybe, just maybe, if I rattled our two friends in the holding cell enough… It's like a huge puzzle; Kudo's got a piece, I've got one, Nakamori has one, that Hakuba guy just might as well… Paranoia might keep you alive, but it makes putting the puzzle together harder than all hell, like having to work in the dark. Maybe it's time somebody turned the lights on._

Munching on his last chip, Detective Chiba Keichi stared thoughtfully down the hallway after the Hattori kid's retreating figure as a junior officer led him Nakamori-wards. He wadded the bag up and tossed it, glancing at the other officer on guard. "Hey, Takuto? How long 'til shift-change? I need to make a phone call."

The other cop waved him on; they had worked together for several years and were familiar with each other's habits, and Chiba was known to be reliable to a fault. "Kenkuro-san'll be here in five; go ahead, workaholic. You plainclothes guys… Something to do with a case, Chiba?"

Unremarkable brown eyes blinked. "Sort of. Thanks, Takuto, I owe you one."

No-one paid any attention to him as he made his way down the hall towards a staircase that climbed towards the roof; no-one ever did, much. He was just Chiba; everybody knew him and he knew everybody. Ordinariness was Chiba's stock in trade, his uniform and his badge—it let him get away with a lot and kept him safe in the line of duty all too often. After all, who was going to pay much attention to a pudgy, plain-looking, thirtyish guy with messy hair?

And if he winced a bit at the noise level in the halls now and then, well, it _was_ a police station; they tended to get a little loud sometimes.

Footsteps on stairs; a door opened, and Chiba stepped out onto the station's rooftop. Unhurriedly, he wandered over to a railing and leaned against it comfortably, looking out across the city as he dialed a certain number on his cellphone.

_Bzzzz…bzzzz…bzzzz…bzz--- "Moshi moshi—"_

"Sashi? How've you been? --Oh fine, fine, can't complain-- Hey, Sashi-chan? D'you know where Obaasama's staying? Heard she was back in the area-- Great. Yeah, me neither, haven't seen her in ages_….."_ Laughter on the other end of the line and a comment containing the words 'octopus' and 'bed' made Chiba wince; he ran one hand through his spiky hair and wished for another bag of chips."You just had to bring that up, didn't you? She's probably forgotten all about it by now, and if she hasn't, she-- Oh, c'mon, it was a joke; not even _Obaasama_ can hold a grudge forever, can she...?" More laughter. "Not funny, Sashi-chan. Anyway, I need a phone number, something interesting's come up; can you help me out? --great, one sec, let me find a pen—"

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Sunset in Beika City was much like sunset in any other largish metropolis. Street-lights came up, traffic slowed down, the scents of cooking food warred with those of asphalt and exhaust; the sidewalks cleared a bit, and children came wandering in looking for pre-dinner snacks.

Like Pocky. Ayumi sat crosslegged on her balcony and contemplated the chocolate-covered cookie-stick in her hand. Pocky was good. There were so many flavors: Strawberry, vanilla, almond, pumpkin, blueberry, coconut (yuk), and of course chocolate in its white, milk and dark variations. Pocky was like people, thought the girl to herself, absentmindedly nibbling; it came in all sorts of shapes and sizes and colors.

So… there were all sorts of Pocky and all sorts of people. Being different wasn't so bad, then, was it? Different like being able to read under the covers at night without a flashlight; different like having scratches heal up really, really quick. But (and she pulled out another stick) Pocky came in _packs_, didn't it? Foil-wrapped packs inside boxes. You didn't have almond sticks mixed in with strawberry. Maybe because… the same types of Pocky liked to stay together?

Ayumi had been thinking.

Idly the 8-year-old scratched at a place on her leg where a bug-bite had been earlier. She didn't really need to scratch; it was just funny how her head kept saying that she _should_ have an itchy bump there still, not smooth skin without even any redness. That part of being different was… nice. And so was the seeing-in-the-dark thing and the glowy eyes.

_Hei-san_ was different like her; she had seen HIS eyes. And if he was different like her, then his girlfriend was too, probably, and so was Spot, since they had all drank the same stuff, just like the man and the woman in that story Hei-san had told her, the one about India. There were three of them: three different-flavored Pocky sticks, all in their own foil-pack and their own box. And Spot too, of course; that made four. Cats counted too.

Ayumi had been thinking a LOT…

What if—and it was a big, big what-if-- What if there were _more_ people like her? Not people she didn't know; no, people like…

…Mitsuhiko. And Genta. And Ai. And—Conan and Rin.

Being different-flavored was sort of scary sometimes. _Different_ was a wall between you and the rest of the world.

_What if?_

It had been Genta-kun who had made her think of it, really (although she sort of figured that she would have anyway sooner or later). He had tripped over something at the park and gashed his leg—not a bad hurt, but enough to bleed a lot. Rin-kun had had some band-aids in her pocket (just like she had done when she was Ran-neesan) so he had been okay, but… still. If it had been _Ayumi_ who had gotten hurt, _she_ wouldn't have needed any band-aids.

It'd be nice if her friends healed like she did. It'd be nice if they could see in the dark, too; it'd make detectiving much easier, wouldn't it? And… she wouldn't be alone in this.

A gust of breeze blew the scent of Ayumi's blooming white roses across her face like a caressing hand as the child rummaged around in one pocket, pulling out the rather grubby sock that she had taken to carrying her juggling-stones around in. She spilled them out onto the balcony tiles; among the rough textures and hues the one she was looking for shone like a diamond, clear as moonlight.

What if… what if… _What if I put it in a bottle of water and kept it there while the moon was full? And let the light shine on it? I could put it out on my balcony… Would it make sort of tea? Panda-gem tea? Would it still work the same, or did it break when Hei-san hit it?_

_…I won't know 'til I try…_

Thoughtfully she poked at the stone with one fingertip; it glittered back at her like a secret smile.

What if?

_Go ahead and do it, Ayumi,_ the sparkle seemed to say. _And then you could give this to your friends like a present. And then you won't have to be different from them and all by yourself. Go ahead. They'll like it too, especially Conan, because you've seen him get hurt before and now he'll heal better. Go ahead._

What if…..? It was a very big what-if. And the moon would be full again very, very soon. There was an empty Calpis bottle in the—

"Ayumi-chan? Dinner's ready."

The girl jumped slightly as her mother's voice came faintly from the kitchen. "Oh! Coming, 'Kaa-san!" Scooping her stones back up, she shoved them into their sock and stuffed it back into her pocket again as she scrambled to her feet. A trailing branch from her rose-bush snagged at one ankle, and the child stumbled—

"Ow!"

--and she watched the thin scratch heal itself in no time at all. A single droplet of blood had fallen to the balcony tiles beside her Pocky; Ayumi's eyebrows knotted together as she thought.

_…like a present… They'll like it too…_

As she slid the glass balcony door closed, the gradeschooler glanced up at the sky and at the moon that had just cleared the buildings. A touch more than three quarters full, it smiled back at her just like her stone had, glittering.

_What if?_

Ayumi bit her lip, still thinking hard as she hurried towards the kitchen and dinner. Behind her, the one drop of blood she had shed amidst the crumpled Pocky-packets reflected the growing moonlight like a ruby as it dried.

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"Bacteriophage," said Haibara Ai a little later that evening, delicately fishing a mushroom from the pot of oden that simmered in the middle of Professor Agasa's dinner-table.

The two faux gradeschoolers and the grey-haired scientist sharing her meal blinked as one. Conan cleared his throat, glancing down at his plate; no, nothing bacteria-like there, thankfully they were eating Rin's cooking rather than Agasa-sensei's… He spoke up cautiously: "I think I speak for all of us when I say, 'What?'"

The young woman/girl with the tea-colored hair sighed and picked up her napkin. "I," she answered in a long-suffering tone, "was answering the question you asked before dinner: Had I found out anything from the sample of the thief's blood? And my answer is 'bacteriophage.'"

There was a moment of silence. The hot-pot bubbled away merrily, and Agasa took advantage of the pause to sneak the last chikuwa slice.

Now _Rin_ cleared her throat. "Ai-kun? Can you please assume that we haven't a clue what a bacteriophage is and explain?" She slid a few more chikuwa pieces into the broth and turned up the portable burner's heat a bit, adding more konnyaku and carrots while she was at it. "I remember, we talked about them in Biology last year… I think…"

It was Ai's turn to clear her throat as she took on her familiar lecturing tone. "A bacteriophage is classified as a type of virus which normally infects various bacteria by penetrating their outer membranes. Upon infection, a bacteriophage eventually destroys its prey by bursting the cell—lysing it, as it's called—but frequently the organism in which the bacteria lives is made ill by replicated viral particles and waste elements produced during this process. Types of bacteriophages were initially studied prior to the invention of antibiotics as a possible aid in destroying infectious diseases…"

Ai trailed the end of her lecture off as Conan shifted a little impatiently. "Yes, well… The sample of blood which you produced for me via that bit of tissue-paper was very revealing," she murmured, turning a mushroom over in her chopsticks and peering at it critically. "Unfortunately I was unable to do anything as comprehensive as a DNA test; as this is not Hollywood, one can't just send out for it and get the results back in an hour or so like—like an order of pizza or similar… and we don't have the facilities here. But—" (she took a bite) "—but there was enough blood for a few good microscope slides. The term 'phage' is a bit of a misnomer in this case, actually, and…"

**Thump! THUMP thump-thump!** The sounds came from the ceiling above—or actually, if one wanted to be accurate, the spare bedroom beyond that. "Is that-- Spot?" asked Rin _sotto voce,_ one eyebrow rising above wide eyes. Agasa nodded glumly.

"…and?" prodded Conan, dissecting a daikon-wrapped bundle of some sort (it seemed to have yami-dofu and quail eggs inside.) Ran's cooking was amazing, he thought, tugging at a knotted scallion; how on earth did she get the little things all tied up like that? "What did you find?"

"…and are there any more mushrooms?" muttered Agasa, eyeing Ai's plate; it hadn't escaped the scientist's notice that the majority of the shiitake and other fungi had ended up on the tawny-haired girl's plate. Rin laughed beneath her breath and dropped a few more into the simmering dashi. "Thank you, Ran-chan. Errr… you were saying?"

"…I was about to mention that 'phage' is taken from the Latin word meaning 'eater'…"

Conan watched as the diminutive researcher hunched slightly over her own oden; Ai had an unexpected (and slightly embarrassing, at least in her own eyes) fondness for mushrooms. "—and. Where was I? Oh, yes… The cells showed something very odd. You see, one thing that a type of bacteriophage called a 'lysogenic' phage does is to integrate its own DNA into its host's chromosomes; this allows the DNA to be replicated, and as the phage increases in the host's internal ecology it tends to alter cells even more… A variant of phage is known to encapsulate its host-cells with a type of thick, protective secondary membrane ," Ai said, warming to her subject while the others began to lose their appetites, "possibly to prolong the cell's lifespan and allow it to be devoured as slowly and completely as possible. Hence, of course, the term 'eater'… Is something wrong?"

Her tablemates stared at their plates. "No… please continue, Ai-chan. Conan, could you please pass me another napkin? Thank you." Rin elbowed her table-mate in the ribs, silencing any unfortunate comments (after all, he _had_ been the one to ask about Ai's research results in the first place.)

Shrug. "Mm. In any case, 'Hei-san's' cells showed several lysogenic phage-like features. For instance, both red and white cells seem to be surrounded with similar membranes, but rather than allowing the cells to be devoured they seem to be protecting them—I attempted to remove vitreous matter from several, and the membranes were highly resistant to damage. And after the matter had been removed, it replaced itself via regeneration… Cells do _not_ normally do that sort of thing, especially blood-cells. They also do not normally reproduce at the rate that these did, once I had them in growth material… They divided and replicated at what I calculate to be roughly thirty-seven times the norm, with the secondary membranes present on all new cells." Ai picked up another mushroom with her chopsticks; she took a bite and glanced up as she swallowed. "And _that_ was when the cells did the oddest thing of all. I introduced several types of bacteria into the cultures afterwards; I wanted to see what would happen. And what happened was this: the membranes on the red blood cells _extended,_ enveloped the bacteria… and devoured them. _THAT_ was what made me think of a bacteriophage."

Agasa blinked rapidly behind his moustache. "Hrrmph. Red blood cells do not normally devour anything, Ai… they exist to transport oxygen, hormones, and so forth… That's all." He snared himself another helping of mushrooms and tofu.

"I'm aware of that. You're aware of that. However, the cells that I examined are NOT." Moodily she took another bite while Conan and Rin looked at each other, brows furrowed. "White cells, now… they do occasionally devour bacteria as part of their natural defense mechanisms; but oddly enough, none of the active white cells made any move to do so, only the red ones. 'Hunter' cells, I've been calling them… Also, I noticed that none of them showed any signs of expiring until I removed them from the cultures—"

"Wait, wait—" Conan dropped a chopstick. "The sample you had was on a piece of _Kleenex_, and it was hours old; those cells shouldn't have been alive at all—"

**Thump! Thump-thump? CRASH! Thump?** Everyone glanced up at the ceiling again, then away.

Ai sighed; cool blue-grey eyes met the boy's. "I'm aware of that as well, Kudo-kun. But the cells were not only alive, they are _still_ alive, at least the ones that had access to culture… and bacteria to eat." She shrugged again. "The platelet count had increased exponentially as well. However, when I introduced live unaltered cells into the culture, they were ignored by the original specimen and died quickly." A pause, and then Ai looked away. "I—also tested some of Ayumi's blood as well; she had scratched herself at recess, and I had a tissue… I even tested the cat against both human samples, just to establish a set of comparisons."

"And… the results?" asked Agasa softly.

His colleague nodded. "Exactly the same, within measurable limits; membranes and growth rates and… everything. Exactly." She stared down at her plate. "Even for the cat."

Silence reigned at the dinner-table for a few minutes after that.

Small fingers nimbly plucked yet another mushroom from the bubbling pot, and Agasa muttered something about 'hobbits' beneath his breath. "I'd give a great deal for a sample of his blood right now," she said somberly, munching.

"Now? Why?" Rin scooped out the last hard-boiled egg for herself. "I mean, he—"

**THUMP! THUMPA-THUMP. THUMP-thud-WHAP_CRASH! _**

This time the sounds were a little more emphatic and a _lot_ less tentative; there was a distant "MRRR_RWWWLLL_!" Rin turned and looked at Conan, one eyebrow tilting up. "You _did_ feed the cat, didn't you? You SAID you were going to." The boy displayed a scratched right hand in answer, and Rin sighed; Spot had the Detective of the East thoroughly whipped. "Um. Sorry, Ai-chan. Why now?"

"Because—" Ai swallowed, picking up her tea cup. "Because… if 'Hei-san's' changes are following the same timeline as Ayumi-chan's, which I'm assuming they are, then they are very, very rapid changes indeed. And… if that's what his cells were like then, after such a short time… what are they like now?"

_And what about Ayumi's?_ her tone said.

No-one answered. After a moment Ai went on, a little subdued. "I've asked Ayumi-chan to stop by tomorrow afternoon; I'd like to keep an ongoing record of her progress, including any further changes to her vision and hearing. Rin-kun, could you—"

**_C R A S H !_**

Eyes wide, everyone looked at the ceiling again, and Conan rather sulkily slid down from his seat. "Stupid cat… I just hope he hasn't done to the bedroom what he did to the bathroom—"

"I still can't understand how he managed to tunnel through the wall… he's just a kitten." The elderly scientist blinked at Ai's snort, but the girl held her piece. "He _is,"_ said the older man defensively. "He's probably still upset about the blood sample—"

_**THUMP! THUMPATHUMP!** "Mraooow!"_

"Considering how much blood of MINE he sampled during the process, I can't see why," said Ai rather dryly, holding up _her_ badly-scratched hand. "And as for his being 'only a kitten', I'm beginning to wonder about that—that _creature's_ genetic makeup prior to the effects of the gem. If I believed in stories about youkai and oni…" She shook her head. To Professor Agasa, Spot had presented himself as a fluffy, cuddly, cute little ball of kittenish innocence; he had, however, flatly declared a State Of War on anyone else in his presence… particularly Haibara Ai, whenever his claws could reach her.

"Forget the blood sample," muttered Conan, eyeing the ceiling as he headed towards the stairs; "He's probably a lot more pissed off about the thermometer."

"Hmmph… Kudo-kun?" He paused, one hand on the banister. "Have you heard from Hattori-san?"

Another thump came from upstairs, and Conan spared a dirty glance towards the sound. "Not yet, but—"

_**Thump-thump!**_

"Okay, OKAY, coming, you little white #$&!—"

_**Thump-thump-BINGbong…**_

'_Bingbong'?_ "Agasa?" Conan frowned. "When did you install a doorbell upstairs?"

"…and when did Spot learn how to use it?" murmured Rin, gathering up the dishes.

Haibara Ai shrugged impatiently and headed for the door, which opened to show… "Speak of the devil," she said in her usual deadpan tone.

"Oh, _thanks,_ Haibara, love you too— Kudo? Kudo, we gotta talk—"

"Hattori?"

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And not all that far away, at a certain apartment building…

Dinner was long since over with for the Yoshida family (which currently consisted only of Ayumi and her mother, as her father was out of town yet _again.)_ And while it was normally approaching the child's bedtime, 'Kaasan had remembered something that she had needed for work tomorrow, and then there had been a stop by a grocery-store for things that she had forgotten earlier that day, and that had led to a late-night run to a convenience store, and then THAT taken them by an ice-cream vendor and…

It wasn't, the girl thought to herself as the lobby doors closed behind them, like eight years old wasn't Grown-Up Enough for her to have stayed home while 'Kaasan ran her errand, but… Ayumi liked it when she got to be out late; the air smelled _different_ somehow, when the street-lights were lit with a haze of mercury-orange and moths were flitting around them like tiny airplanes. Or bats, little white ones. Or maybe hang-gliders, like Hei-san used….. Night-time was funny; it made everything look turned sideways from daytime.

Moonlight was the best. It was as if sunlight gave everything one face and moonlight gave them another, especially a full moon. You knew that the sidewalks and flowerbeds around your home were the same ones you saw in the daytime, but at night they were mysterious and—

(still munching on the last of her Double Chocolate Caramel Chunk ice-cream cone, she fished for a word as the elevator in her building's lobby went DING! and the doors opened)

--and, and… ummm…

"—magic?" she said out loud, licking her fingers.

"What, Ayumi-chan?" asked her mother as she hefted two bags in one arm and tried to keep another from sliding. Gravity won; the most precarious of her purchases headed groundwards with a slither of plastic. "Oh—"

But a hand shot out from directly in front of her, saving the day. "Allow me, madam."

Hefting her own bags with sticky fingers, Ayumi looked up…

…at a strong, wrinkled face and a bushy grey moustache and a pair of what Genta called Caterpillar Eyebrows and two very kind eyes. They twinkled down at her. "Do you need help too, ojou-chan?"

"No, thank you," she answered politely. "I'm okay." The girl frowned to herself as her mother thanked the man for his help in a rather preoccupied voice; she knew that one, it was 'Kaasan's _Never-Talk-To-Strangers,-Ayumi_ voice. 'Kaasan was wondering about whether or not it was okay to accept help from strange men that you met late at night in lonely elevators, but the old man was answering back now and he _seemed_ awfully polite—

There were several boxes sitting by his feet. She wondered if he had been shopping too.

Second floor…. Third floor….. Fourth floor, and the elevator doors went DING! again—

"Ahh, Kari, I wondered where you had gotten to. Is everything alright?"

"Perfectly fine, Pyotr dear," said the pretty woman who stepped into the elevator with them; she smiled down at Ayumi and gave a little bow to her mother. "Just a bit of exploring... Did you know that Padme and her little boy live on the fourth floor? I'd heard that they were in the building somewhere, but—small world, isn't it? Relatives _everwhere._" Bright green eyes glinted against her dusky face. "Konbanwa… Are you two residents here also?"

'Kaasan was looking a bit less worried now. "Oh, yes; we've lived here for quite some time. Did you just move in?" The lady answered (something about her and her uncle and how hard it was to find good apartments these days) but Ayumi was too busy thinking hard to pay much attention…

…because, for some reason, she looked really familiar. _Really_ familiar. But the girl couldn't quite recall where she knew her from—it had to do with… water? And music? And… tricks?

…and… and…?

…and she just didn't know. Oh well; maybe she'd remember later on.

_DING!_ went the elevator door again, this time opening onto her own floor; the old man and the pretty woman followed her down the hall right to her apartment, with the woman taking the bags that the man had caught up and the man struggling with his boxes. "It's no bother at all," answered the man to 'Kaasan when she protested; "After all, we're just down the hall ourselves now, and what else are neighbors for?"

Neighbors?

Bags safely deposited just inside the door, 'Kaasan thanked the two for their help while Ayumi hung back a little shyly. The woman smiled down at the girl and reached out a slender hand to ruffle her hair. "I had a daughter who looked a bit like you, once," she said softly; the silver bangles on one wrist chimed as she brought her hand down, a little reluctantly it seemed. "She was named Purnima; it means 'full moon' in Hindustani."

Ayumi looked directly up into the brightest green eyes she had ever seen; they were very gentle, almost sad, even though the woman (Akasema-san, she had said her name was) was smiling. "That's a pretty name," she ventured; and then, for no real reason at all (except that it was on her thoughts a lot) she said "The moon'll be full soon."

"So it will; in four days, actually." Akasema-san nodded as if she knew all about full moons and things like that. "Perhaps I'll stay up and watch it when it rises. Good night, Yoshida-san, Ayumi-chan. Pleasant dreams."

--_'Ayumi-chan'? _How had the woman known her name? 'Kaasan hadn't said--

But then 'Kaasan closed the door behind them before she could ask.

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"Four days, Kari-sama?"

"Yes, Pyotr… four days. And, do you know, aaaa lot can happen in four days…"

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**_To Be Continued…_**

_**Ysabet's Notes:** Ummmm… First off, please don't tar-and-feather me, okay? I'm back on this one, I swear! And I'm REALLY SINCERELY SORRY for not updating for, what's it been, 6 or 7 months? Oww._

_Why didn't I update? I honestly don't know. Has anybody else out there ever had a story just refuse to be written? I had the plot in my head; I had my outlines and notes; I had things all mapped out, but for some reason… I didn't have the story. It was sleeping, though, NOT dead. I didn't write for a while, and then I dropped in to visit several other fandoms (like YuuGiOh, believe it or not; got a crossover Kaitou Kid/YuuGiOh fic going on, titled "Shuffle"—it's almost finished) and wrote a little here and there. But for reasons I can't figure out myself, Windfall just would not write._

_However… With some much-needed bribery, prodding and all-purpose arse-kicking by several friends (Snickerer, Icka, Soc-chan, Dogmatix, Morgan, Wren-chan, Becky, Hauntress and Po'e among them but by no means all of 'em), I went back to work on the story and discovered how much I've missed it. And from this point on, it's moving. No more 27,000-word chapters, though! Gonna keep the dratted things down around 10,000 words each if at all possible… maybe it'll seem a bit less intimidating that way. Looking back at this monster, I realize that it's seen me through a traumatic divorce and my really-not-much-fun-at-all experience with breast-cancer; that's a lot of water under the bridge. 'Windfall' is part of my own history, it helped keep me going at times, and I'll be damned if I drop it; I promise._

_So! This chapter wasn't the world's most action-packed, but I needed it to bring both myself and all of you up to speed… and to establish several very important bits of the plot-line. WHICH bits? You'll see. And as for next time, well… Now that you know what's happening back in Beika City, would you like to find out what's going on at the Kuroba Estate? What's that? I can't heeeear you….. Oh well, I'll just read the reviews, okay? _

_This chapter is dedicated to all my very good friends who wouldn't let me quit on it. See? The bribes/prodding/arse-kicking worked! It's good to be back, y'all._


	23. Humanities

_**Chapter 23: **__**Humanities**_

_**By Ysabet**_

_The best and oldest furniture should not be rearranged;  
__Leave it just the way it is, there is no need for change.  
__The best and straightest arrow is the one that will range  
__Out of the archer's view—  
_…………………………………_.('Furniture', by Horslips)_

Once upon a time, long, long ago in the fabled and mythical land of Japan, there lived a Kaitou. He was a Brave and Heroic Kaitou; you could tell this because of his hair, which defiantly refused to lie down and submit to the tyranny of combs and brushes. This Brave and Heroic Kaitou had many friends and many enemies; sometimes he had trouble telling them apart (since the friends could be quite frightening and the enemies were capable of being very helpful when they felt like it), but for the most part he was able to keep his head straight and deal with the world in an arguably sane manner, at least if one went by accepted clinical definitions.

The Brave and Heroic Kaitou had a Lady Fair. You could tell that she was Fair because of her demeanor _("Kaito! If you flip my skirt one more time I'll HURT you!"),_ her beauty _("Uh, Aoko-kun? Didja know that you've split your jeans again?")_ and her gentleness _("Hide the mop! Hide the mop!")_ While occasionally she required rescue, she was generally very much able to take care of herself; after all, she _was_ a Lady Fair.

…and she lived with a dragon. But never mind about _him._

The Brave and Heroic Kaitou also had Minions; they were short, brutish and nasty—wait, wait, that's wrong; short, _yes,_ but not brutish. And 'nasty' only applied to one in particular, and if you called him a Minion to his face he would probably shoot you point-blank with a tranquilizer-dart and that would just make it awkward for _everybody._

Right. Anyway, he had Minions. Or fangirls. One of those.

One day the Kaitou and his Lady Fair set out upon an adventure. They visited many strange and interesting places, blew up several of them, fought the Hoards Of Darkness, and caused a lot of havoc all over the countryside. However, eventually it was pointed out to the Kaitou that perhaps it was time to buckle down and do some Serious Heroing. Or Else. So he packed his bags, sharpened his monocle, ironed and pressed his cape and girded his loins in preparation for visiting Ye Olde Family Castle.

"Kaito? Why are we visiting your family anyway? And what's with this 'girding your loins' thing?" asked his Lady Fair as they set out.

The Brave and Heroic Kaitou shrugged. "We need my family's blessing; it's in the Handbook," he explained. "And ALL the good Heroes gird their loins before going adventuring, though I'm not sure why."

"But… I mean, does it involve cross-dressing or armor or what?"

Another shrug. "Beats me. I just changed my socks and figured that'd do."

And so they set off. Ye Olde Family Castle was a good piece away, but eventually they got there. The Lady Fair went on ahead to take tea with her Significant Other's family while he worked his way through the Castle's defenses like a good little Kaitou. Ninjas were fought, nightingales were floored, fish were avoided, zucchini was puzzled over, and eventually the Brave and Heroic Kaitou made his way to the Crack Of Doom and—whups, sorry, wrong story—that is, eventually the Brave and Heroic Kaitou made his way through all the trials that his loving kinsmen had placed before him to test his mettle and met up with his Lady Fair, who had been eating popcorn and cheering him on all the while…

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A turn to the left, down the steps, two more turns and then down the hall. "What're they like Aoko?" The Inspector's Daughter's hand was warm, clasped in Kaito's fingers. _His _palms, on the other hand, were sweating.

You couldn't say that he was nervous; no, no, of _course_ not, Kuroba Toichi's son would never ever admit to being nervous—he was a showman, he was a magician, he was at home in the limelight. What you COULD say was that he was so full of trepidation, anger, anticipation and a thousand other emotions that his pulse was doing a good imitation of a jackhammer.

'Nervous' just didn't do the moment justice. It was _way_ too relaxed a word.

Footsteps slowing beside him, Aoko hesitated, fidgeting with her obi-tie. Man, she looked pretty— "They're…. nice. Kind of, um, _strange,_ but… nice. They've treated me really well since Jii-san brought me here." One last corner; and then a partially-open door loomed before them as she continued in a voice that only quivered a small bit. "Your great-aunt is a little overwhelming, but once you get used to how she talks—"

"Huh?" Kaito scowled, dragging the dusty fingers of his free hand through his hair in an attempt to comb it down; it only stuck up worse than before. "How does she talk?"

The door opened—

And a precise, rather clipped woman's voice spoke: _"'Quo me cumque rapit tempestas deferor hospes.'_ Or, in our native tongue, _'Whereever the storm carries me, I go a willing guest.'_—Horace, of course. Welcome, my dear boy, welcome." Light flooded into the darkened hall, and the two standing there blinked against the glare of candles.

"Like that," muttered the girl beneath her breath, hiding behind Kaito.

"……….."

It was like walking into another world. It WAS another world. Before, there had been the overgrown gardens and the tunnels and the ornate, antique rooms and the chill of the _iei_ portraits and-- Kaito had honestly not known what to expect, but at the very least he had thought things would be… well….. traditional-looking, all ricepaper screens and lacquered wood and stuff; he hadn't been expecting a humongous round dinner-table, of all things, laden with covered dish after dish, lit with candles and set with European-style place-settings— For one vivid moment, the thief's heightened senses were captured entirely by the scents of food (it had been way too long since the dumplings outside the Nightingale-Floor room, after all); but he shook it off, straightening and putting on his best Poker Face to greet the people who waited beside the table.

He had a reputation to uphold, after all. Sort of.

The beaming, elderly woman had to be Great-Aunt-Whoever; a tiny little thing, all delicate bird-bones and formal black furisode marked with what Kaito had come to recognize as the Kuroba crest: four overlapping stylized feathers against a circle of white. She wore a great mass of interwoven silvery braids rather than the traditional hairstyle you'd expect with an outfit like that; dark, clever eyes smiled at him as she drew them both across the threshold and into the circle of candle-light. "Delightful timing," she murmured appreciatively; "The very stroke of midnight. Your father would have been _so_ proud..."

"Um—"

A small figure (almost as bird-boned but a lot more energetic) popped out from behind Great-Aunt-Whoever. Reddish-brown hair of a decidedly curly nature framed a face full of mischief, with snapping black eyes and a grin that damn near wrapped all the way around. "We'vebeenwatchingyouandwe'reREALLYgladyou'rehere!!! Ittookyouwaytoolong!!! And--" (she took a great gulp of breath) "—andOjiki-samasaidyouwereaRealKurobaandKaiji-niiwantedtogoaheadandeat—" (gasp) "--butObaa-samasmackedhishandandmadehimwait—"

Blink, blink. "Uh—"

_THWAP!_ A folded fan thumped the girl on the forehead from behind Great-Aunt-Whoever (how could someone so small manage to hide _anybody?)_ and she yelped; it flicked away, tucking itself into the obi of the young man who stepped up to the woman's other side. "Behave, Brat. _Guests_. What'd Ojiki-sama tell you?" he drawled out in a rather lazy way, fixing Kaito with a somewhat cool gaze.

"OW. Um… toslowdown?" (Deep breath.) "—to slow down so other people could understand me and not go into ep—ep—epoleptish fits?" She looked to be about nine or ten.

"That's 'epileptic', but you've got the right idea." The young man smirked a bit, then bowed—with a florish. "Welcome, cousin."

_So showmanship does run in the family. Big surprise there,_ thought the thief, palms still sweating. _This_ guy was someone he might have expected: black hair, a rather handsome and very Japanese face… except for the dark blue eyes. Kaito had seen those eyes often enough, peering out of his own mirror; apparently they ran in the family along with the showmanship-gene. He looked to be mid-twenties, maybe… A long, lean body, taller (Kaito noted with faint annoyance) than his own height by a good few centimeters; strong hands, callused here and there in odd places, paint-stains under the nails-- The thief eyed the fan tucked into the other's obi warily, resolving not to allow Aoko to get her hands on anything similar.

Reflexively he bowed in return. "Ahh— I'm—"

"_Kaito!!—"_

--and suddenly a THIRD person had pushed her way past Great-Aunt-Whoever and he found himself enveloped in his mother's arms.

She was sniffling; and she seemed smaller than before, somehow; how long had Kaito been able to rest his chin on his mom's head like that? He couldn't remember. Awkwardly, gently, her son returned the embrace. "Hi, 'Kaasan. It's okay—hey, you weren't worried about me, were you?" Arms tightened about his shoulders as he forced out a chuckle. "C'mon, you and Dad didn't raise me to get taken down by big rocks or ninjas, did you? Or zucchini, even." Kuroba Hikarue's son stepped back just a little, smiling down into his mother's face with an effort. "I promised I'd be okay; and like I said, I always keep my promises… 'Sides, if I didn't, Aoko'd beat me up. Right, Aoko?"

The Inspector's Daughter opened her mouth and then shut it, abruptly turning scarlet. The child watching them scowled, crossing her arms. "Ojiki-sama said nobody could hit you 'til you got used to us. How come SHE can hit you but nobody else can?" she complained.

Kaito grinned at her—'Mika', wasn't it? She reminded him a bit of 'Yumi-chan, only older and way skinny-- as a bubble of wickedness welled up inside. "That's 'cause nobody else can kiss as good as Aoko does either; she gets special privileges." There was a squawk from beside him, and he ducked just in case.

"…oh, thanks _tremendously,_ cousin. Ruin my reputation, why don't you?"

Kaito blinked; _What--?? Wait, 'reputation?_ Putting that together with 'kiss' made his eyes suddenly bulge; he straightened up and stared past his mother in horror at the young man who had called him 'cousin'. It was only now that he realized that the other's hair was spiky with damp, and that there seemed to be a bruise on his chin— At Kaito's pop-eyed look, the young man half-grinned, sharp eyes gleaming. "No big deal… You did pretty well for somebody who wasn't raised here." He bowed neatly a second time. "I'm Rakkaiji, by the way; hajimemashite, Kaito-san." Thin and rather on the pale, bony side, but with that characteristic Kuroba profile--

"Uhhhh… right…" He could hear Aoko muffling a laugh. "Err. Sorry 'bout that—the kiss and everything. And the fish."

"_I_ know somebody that's gonna get _jeaaaa_lous if they find out you got kissed—" Kuroba Rakkaiji mock-swatted at the laughing girl with his fan again; she dodged it this time with ease. "Kaiji-nii's got a boyfriend named Ken," she confided to Kaito and Aoko, who both blinked _(eep?_). "And when he hears about this he'll—"

"_Mika-chan._ Enough, please."

The words came from beyond the table, and all five of the other people in the room froze, and then turned as one towards the six as he wheeled himself forward.

'Wheeled-- The old-fashioned cane wheelchair made tiny creaking sounds as it rolled across the wooden floor; Kaito paid them little notice, all of his attention fixed on the man in the chair itself. It was like looking into a mirror, one where you paid for your look with time and trauma—

_He looks like __**me**__… sixty years away, after a lot of bad road and rough audiences._

White hair, thick and springing up in barely-tamed disarray—'Yumi-chan, thought Kaito, would've said that it ate combs just like his. A thin, mobile face, lined deeply with both laughter and sorrow but still _very_ much alert and aware; dark blue eyes—well, one dark blue eye. The other was covered with a patch, and the white creases around it explained something of why. Strong magician's hands (thief's hands) gripped the wheels of the chair and maneuvered them as he moved forward, the silk of his black crested haori rustling with the effort. "Kuroba Kaito, welcome… My name is Kuroba Kuehiko, and I am the master of this estate. Welcome to _Gonin Kurou."_

'_Five Crows', _the name whispered; it felt old, like four of the five coins that had led him there. _Kind of a weird title for a family estate,_ thought the thief as he bowed silently. There were only four feathers in the crest— Kaito's eyes must have strayed towards the emblem as he straightened up, as the lined face quirked in a sudden smile of understanding… He glanced at the old woman waiting so patiently to one side. "You must be very weary, Kaito-san; would you prefer an explanation first, or rest and sustenance?"

Great-Aunt-Whoever shot her husband a reproachful look. "Tsk_. ''All beginnings are hard,' said the thief, and began by stealing an anvil.'_ —From the Dutch, you know. Why not both? Sit down, all of you—We held dinner for your arrival, you see," she explained as she shooed the lot of them before her towards the table. Despite his exhaustion and the chorus of growls that were beginning to resound in his stomach, the young thief had to smother a grin at seeing such a tiny woman herding her charges like so many chickens. There was a scraping of chairs and a clatter of silverware; and a few minutes later, Kaito (with a distinct Mad-Hatter's-Tea-Party feeling) found himself passing platters and filling his plate with an assortment of victuals. He exchanged a bewildered glance with Aoko, shrugged once, decided not to look a gift dinner in the mouth and dug in.

But while his appetite was busy being satisfied, his mind was perfectly free to speculate.

_So—we've got Great-Aunt-Whoever (what IS her name, anyway? Don't think anybody ever said), Great Uncle Kuehiko, and cousins Mika and Rakkaiji. And mom and Aoko. And I guess Jii and his brother Shunmei are around somewhere… These people are all related to me? ALL of 'em? I wonder if there're any more? _It was kind of bewildering, going from a hardly-any-relatives status to just the opposite; even as he served himself a slice of really good roast beef (he resolved to hunt down the cook and make friends ASAP), Kaito snuck a look up from beneath his lashes at all the weird people eating with him…

…who were all sneaking looks back. _ALL_ of them. At the same time. That wasn't just bewildering, it was downright daunting. And _completely_ unfair.

Unless you happened to be 1412, the Kaitou Kid, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, who was good at dealing with 'daunting' and who ate 'unfair' for breakfast, no matter how worn out he was. Right. The personage in question swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and cleared his throat. "Ah—Nice place you have here," he said with as much aplomb as he could muster. "About that explanation--?"

"…………………………"

Glances were exchanged between the Great Uncle, the Great Aunt, and the older of the two cousins (Mika-chan was too busy filching items from Rakkaiji-san's plate to care). _Wow,_ thought Kaito, a little frazzled; _Long silence…_

Great-Uncle cleared his throat. "Where to start," he murmured; and the young magician felt Aoko jump slightly beside him at the way his voice held Kaito's own intonation, right down to that little drawl at the end that told the ones that knew him that he was stalling for time. He had a damned good Poker Face, too; very, _very_ good. "I suppose we could begin with who we are," the man said slowly, "or what we do—"

"Or we could discuss why they've come here," suggested Great-Aunt Whoever brightly, watching with dark, smiling eyes. "Could you please pass the potatoes, Rakkaiji? Thank you, dear. And you can put those cookies back until you've eaten something more substantial, Mika."

"—or we could (munch, munch) talk 'bout what _they_ do, since we already (crunch) know who they are—" put in Mika-chan as she reluctantly traded the platter of cookies for a dish of vegetables.

"…_or_ we could ask them how they managed to see the infra-red beams in the falling-rock trap; I'm very interested in that in particular," murmured Rakkaiji-san softly, eyes fixed on Kaito's own.

_**…..Nnnngh.**_ Toichi's son flinched internally.

"—or," put in the elderly man firmly, "we could talk about the Kuroba clan's history." And that calm, single dark blue gaze slid nonchalantly across Kaito and Aoko's faces, telling nothing and seeing everything— Or so, thought Kaito sharply, he'd bet the old man would like to think. But Kuroba Toichi's son was no slouch in the Poker Face department himself.

And Kaito'd be damned if he'd let that Rakkaiji guy unnerve him into talking about… things he didn't want to talk about yet. If ever. At all. "History's great," he said cheerfully, snagging a roll from a passing platter; "We're all about history, right, Aoko?"

"………right…….."

"History, then." Kuroba Kuehiko drew a deep breath, stirring his tea with a spoon; silver clinked against porcelain, ringing like the clear chime of an ancient bell. "Long, long ago, in a much more turbulent time than this, there was a small clan who served a Daimyo…"

----------------------------------------------------------------------

_Long, long ago, in a much more turbulent time than this, there was a small clan who served a Daimyo, a great lord. How long they had served him, nobody knows now nor knew then; they were his family's shadows—spies and bodyguards in times of trouble, thieves when it became necessary to acquire goods or status or the downfall of an enemy, even knives in the night when waking up in the morning with one's throat unslit was less than a certainty. For the most part, though, they were thieves._

_The clan had no name; it was safer that way. Even their name belonged to their Daimyo._

_These were troubled times, filled with small wars; lives were short and often ended in violence. To serve a great lord was no guarantee of living to old age, such as it was—you were far more likely to die choking on your own blood or rotting in some enemy's cells. _

_But there was honor in service, and those of the nameless clan served their lord well._

_Understand, please: beyond one's family ties, there was no mythical law or organization among the kaitou of the land. Oh, the different clans __knew__ about each other of course; they had their own private wars sometimes, when one slipped through the others nets or made the others' lord lose face. That was just… business, the way things went. And occasionally there were marriages, one clan to another, and if techniques of stealth or trickery passed from one clan to another by way of children or dowry, well… that was just business too._

_The kaitou clans were not shinobi; they were small, usually no more than a dozen strong or so, and did not war against each other unless their particular tasks set them at cross-purposes. That was the one unbreakable rule, that you did not strike against your own kind without cause. Shadows were created to follow the light, not to strike out on their own. And so between clan and clan there was peace, more or less; otherwise, they would have decimated each other—their skills made it far too easy to kill._

_Time passed; times changed. Perhaps eight centuries or so ago, the small wars that had always been a way of life grew larger and began to devour the life of the land and its people. Crops grew less plentifully, and many children starved to death in villages too weak or unprofitable to be protected by one lord or another. In the fields, even the crows grew thin._

_Time passed; times changed, and much for the worse._

_The great stronghold that had cradled the shadow clan's Daimyo and his family was shattered in siege; the ruling family fell, their lord was slaughtered despite his servants' efforts, and what remained of the kaitou clan—eleven souls, so it's told—fled tto the rocky northern country where only bandits and lawless men lived. To be without a home was terrible thing; but to be without a purpose was even worse—what were they to do, turn to farming or to soldiery? They had always served a lord; it gave them something to pit their wills against, a target and an audience—and even in those days when there was little difference between 'entertainment' and 'destruction', what was a kaitou without an audience?_

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Got that right…"

"Indeed, Kaito-kun. _'Let a man practice the profession he best knows'_— that's from Cicero. Kuehiko, would you pass the butter, please?"

"Of course, my dear. Now, to continue—"

----------------------------------------------------------------------

_Traveling by night to avoid the constant skirmishes troubling their ruined land, eventually the small family found an abandoned stronghold in wild territory to the north. It was a harsh place, cold and remote, but the hunting was good enough to keep them alive and at least it was shelter; and there were small villages nearby with which to trade. Had they been left alone, the shadow clan might have settled down and perhaps faded into history as just one more faceless group of refugees lucky enough to have found a haven… but that was not to be._

_They were, so to speak, small fish in a very large, very troubled pond, despite their skills—and they WERE skilled, even among the kaitou clans. In particular, they were known for their cleverness in the ways of disguise, their ability to think under pressure and their tricks of thievery; shinobi might be more useful, might be better at killing, but the family were skilled even in that. There were none who—_

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"Wait, wait, you mean kaitou back then were assassins sometimes?"

"If necessary, when their lord had required it of them. Less true shinobi and more jacks-of-all-trades, actually, but... Spies, thieves, and assassins, yes. "

"…………………………………….."

"You dislike the notion, I see. Tell me, Kaito: If the man who shot your father was here before you now and you were given the chance to end his life, what would _you_ do?"

"I— don't know."

"Why don't you go on with the history-lesson, Kuehiko dear? We'll talk about that later."

"Yes; we will... As I was saying—"

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_It was one of the clan-head's four sons who first saw the smoke from a burning village on their near horizon; he ran and told his father, Yogarasu, whose name meant 'night crow'. They had scarcely been in their new refuge a season and already the greater wars had grown fat on the smaller ones' misfortunes and ventured out into the northern lands like prowling monsters, eager for prey. War had followed them; first would come more refugees, then the armies that drove them. And while the family was very good indeed at staying hidden, for how long could they manage such a trick? Winter was coming._

_They sat in counsel that night, talking softly together in what remained of the stronghold's largest hall. Yogarasu the clan-head laid out their options before his family—should they attempt to remain in hiding, should they seek service among the warring armies moving so inevitably towards them, or should they run again? _

_Running again would have solved so many problems… and what could less than a dozen kaitou do against warring armies?_

_But there was no time to reach a decision; before many hours had passed, news was brought from the nearest village that the first of the refugees had arrived, bearing tales of horror. War, yes—_

_--and disease. Plague. Death had arrived, and it had brought friends._

_That very nearly was enough to make the clan pack up and flee. Only the knowledge that winter was already clutching at their heels stayed them, that and the realization that northward lay only greater wilderness and less of a chance of survival. In the ruined keep, at least, they had shelter and good hunting; now they had to find a way to remain safe…_

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"I like this part. It's just like one of those manga stories—"

"Perhaps, Mika-chan, but this was real, you know."

"I know. I _still_ like it, though."

"Hush then, and listen—"

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_It must be remembered that these were not your usual frightened refugees. They were not displaced farmers, nor soldiers, nor fleeing nobles—they were, instead, people with a heritage of weaponry and stealth, trickery and the art of acting in secret. A straightford defense of their new territory was impossible, due to a lack of numbers; they were too few. And so, when Yogarasu proposed that they defend their ruined home using the tools of their trade, the suggestion was accepted with enthusiasm._

_And thus began what the Kuroba family archive calls 'The Great Trick.'_

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"You see," said the old man with the eyepatch meditatively as he leaned back a little in his chair, "they were desperate. Eleven men, women and children were hardly a warlike force powerful enough to expel the armies that were soon to arrive. But if they could make them turn away of their own accord…"

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_It began simply, with rumors in the village sake house. There had been strange things seen in the forest to the north—flitting lights, pale somethings that rustled in the bushes—nothing too dramatic. Most of the listeners had scoffed, too busy drowning their worries in liquor to pay much attention. Later on, staggering home, if several of the worst drinkers saw some odd glowing things moving among the heavy undergrowth beyond the fields, their sodden minds would barely retain the images for when they sobered._

_However, their wives would remember their drunken ramblings when they staggered in, and would repeat them to the neighbors the next day. There was a saying back then that continues to this day: 'Gossip is the mother of many children.' A week was all it took for the entire village to have heard the rumors._

_And then there were the noises._

_A messenger riding between villages was the first to hear the voices; he was also the first to carry the rumors beyond the nearest town and to the next, and the next, especially after something had called his name from the darkness and then followed him for quite some distance, laughing…_

_The rumors spread; a headless body had been seen walking among the trees—or no, was it that a bodiless head had been witnessed flying there? Or maybe both; who could say? Somebody had definitely seen SOMEthing, and the bluish lights that had danced here and there among the overgrown ruins at the edge of the forest had been glimpsed quite clearly by a passing priest and his acolyte—he had warned the townsmen to avoid the old stronghold, it was clearly haunted._

_Clearly…_

_Stay away, said the village elders to the younger men. If a priest gives such a warning, it should be enough for you. Stay away, and tell your children to do so as well. We have enough trouble coming towards us already without angering the spirits._

_And that they did—trouble, that is. It came first in the trickle of refugees, some of them whole but many wounded, some ill and some dying. They came on foot or carried in wagons, begging for what food the locals could spare them; they crowded the local Inari shrine, and they brought sickness with them. The first few to try to pass through the forest had been warned, but they tried anyway. They stumbled back babbling about glowing red eyes and flying things among the trees, and they went around the forest and ruins on the western road, seeking healing in the larger shrines that lay towards the far coastline._

_Trouble arrived again when the first riders of the advancing armies came through; they, too, were warned off from the forest, but they had heard of the ruins there and their leader had sent them to scout out a possible permanent camp there—ruins had wells and walls that could be refortified and built up. The scouts returned with their horses white-eyed and snorting in terror, ropy foam lathering their bits; bright sparks had burst beneath their hooves, smelling of sulfur, and evil-visaged creatures had leered at them seemingly from behind every thicket—_

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"Firecrackers, huh? And lots of long-burning fuses for the sparks and smoke; cool. So… what you're telling me is that these kaitou guys were freaking out the locals and trying to scare off any intruders? To keep isolated from the fighting and disease?"

"Of course. They were tired, you see; their lord had died, he and all his family. They had lost many of their own, and what do you suppose any of the other daimyo would have done if they had known that they were there—skilled thieves and spies, perfectly capable of slipping through an army of soldiers like shadows? It doesn't matter that this was so long ago, you know, or that their methods were less technological than our own; 'primitive' does not mean 'stupid.' Their primary goal was survival, and they had to depend nearly as much on luck as on skill."

"Mmmhmm… Tricks—smoke and mirrors—things don't change all that much, do they? Must've been pretty rough…"

"It was; and their luck could not hold out forever." The older man regarded him somberly over his tea.

The tale had taken rather longer than expected, and Kaito snuck a look at the ornate clock ticking on the wall. A little after one a.m…. Dinner had progressed on to dessert, and now he sighed and surreptitiously slid down a little in his chair. All the stress of the very long day and night, all the weariness… it was as if it had been just waiting for him to relax before pouncing, and now—

"—and perhaps," said Kuroba Kuehiko softly, "the rest of the tale should wait for later tomorrow—or, actually, _today,"_ he added, glancing at the clock as well. "You've had a very long day, and I suspect that rest would do you more good than more history just now. Hm?" With a grunt, the older man wheeled himself back from the table; Great-Aunt Whosit (Kaito _still_ didn't know her name, but his cousins seemed to call her 'Obaa-sama') moved with remarkable silence for a woman her age to slip behind him, resting thin hands on the wicker of his chair. "I think we would all benefit from a late morning; 'Early to bed, early to rise' was not written for this family. Hikarue, my dear, would you mind showing your son and Aoko-san to their rooms? I know that you have many questions, Kaito, but… perhaps it would be best to ask them with a clear mind?" he said quietly, his single-eyed gaze resting calmly on his guests.

"I… yeah; I guess it would. But I _will_ have my answers. I've earned them, haven't I? And I've been waiting for them for a long time," answered Toichi's son softly as he rose from his seat; beside him Aoko flinched a little, and her hand involuntarily sought his.

"Fair enough. I only ask that you hear the rest of the family history first. Humor an old man in this, please; it may make things clearer."

The young thief nodded. History seemed harmless enough.

"Goodnight, then. We'll continue when you are both more rested." The single blue gaze was steady. "And Kaito? If there is any doubt in you of your welcome here-- Please know this: _we_ have been waiting for you to ask your questions for a long time also. There are things that we've been waiting to say; and we too are tired of waiting. Sleep well."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"'Sleep well,' yeah," muttered Kaito, padding down the polished wood of the hallway. "As if. Is _everybody_ in this family a practicing Zen Master of Inscrutability?"

"Well, you would know if anybody would…"

"Thanks _bunches_, Aoko." He flicked a glance sideways at her, fighting back a smile; God, it was good to be able to talk to her again; and his mom too, for that matter. Mom looked tired; well, they all were. It had been a long, long day.

The twists and turns of hallway were dizzying, a little bewildering to his weary senses; Kaito tried to keep track, but even he had limits. "Where're we going?" he asked, stifling a yawn.

"You've been given a room in the East Wing," murmured his mother; "I'll be right down the hall from you, and Aoko is in the room next to yours." She paused, turning to him and brushing a gentle hand across his forehead. "You need to rest, Kaito."

"Yeah, no sh—Um, sorry. I mean… right. _Rest._ Rest good." And he gave her a lopsided grin, the best he could manage at the moment. "Think I could sleep for a week, but… you s'pose they've got something as mundane as a shower around here?" He raised one arm and sniffed suspiciously. "I think I could use one, what with ninjas and chimneys and all that stuff. I probably smell like one of Nakamori-keibu's smokes… Aoko, what d'_you_ think? Pipe or cigar?" An annoyed hand swatted at him, and he swayed a bit as he ducked, still grinning; that was better. Kaito felt his world click a little more into place—there was nothing like being threatened with bodily harm by somebody important to you to make you feel like everything was okay again… mostly okay again… sort of okay again… at least _approaching_ a general state of okayness again…

_Whoaaaaboy__--_

Right, 'sway' had just turned into 'tilt'; when had the hallway developed a slanted floor? "Maybe I'd better skip the shower—"

Two hands grabbed him from either side, and he steadied himself against a wall. "I'm fine, I'm good, just a… little tired." A lot tired, tons of tired, absolute loads and _heaps_ of tired, but he had been through big rocks and fire and fish and zucchini; a few zillion metric buttloads of tired wasn't going to stop him now, he was the Kaitou Kid, he was International Criminal 1412, he was—

--being steered around what his blurry eyes saw to be a corner, then down a few tilting, unsteady steps and towards a door; it opened and a well-known voice said quietly, "I'll take him from here if you wish, Hikarue-sama."

_Jii?_

And sure enough, it was him. One more piece of the world slid into place as strong, wrinkled hands pulled Kaito in through the door. The young thief had just enough energy to half-turn/half-waver back towards the two women in the hall—"Hang on, Mom, I need to (yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawn) talk to you first!"—but his heart wasn't really in it, and considering that the last time he had felt this ragged he had had a _hole_ in his shoulder, maybe this was a good thing.

"Kaito, you baka, let her go. She's exhausted," said Aoko fiercely.

"She is?" He peered muzzily at his mother; things were beginning to grey out around the edges. "Mom? Have you been doing okay? They've been treating you right?" Silk rustled as Kuroba Hikarue attempted a smile for her son, nodding; he blinked, rubbing at his eyes. "You look kinda stressed." Kaito frowned; she looked worse than stressed, she looked—pale, tense and more than a little worn. "What's wrong?"

His mother shook her head. "Nothing, just… I'm so glad to see you, I—" The woman drew a deep breath, looking away as they moved through the dimly-lit hall. "I had forgotten how they would test you… I was with Aoko for part of it; you did very well, dear." For a moment her smile was real as she glanced back at him. "Very well; I'm proud of you, and your father, he—"

"—he would've been proud too." And then the smile faltered as she looked past him towards Jii, who still waited patiently just inside the room. "There _are_ things we need to talk about… Your uncle…"

"Huh? What 'bout him?"

"Tomorrow…" Kuroba Hikarue drew a silent breath; her fists clenched, almost hidden by the long sleeves of her black furisode. "Your great-uncle is a very good man, Kaito, but… he's also… very… _persuasive_ about certain things. Promise me something, please? Please?"

"What?" Her son blinked again, trying to fight off weariness one more time. He reached out, brushing back his mother's hair from where it had tumbled over her forehead (and just how had she gotten to be so small all of a sudden?) "Promise you what, Mom?"

Aoko watched them both, mute. Her hands twisted together unconsciously.

"Promise me… Promise me that you won't make any decisions right away, that you'll take time to _think,_ Kaito—" Her eyes were so desperate, full of something she wanted so badly to tell him. "Just promise me that you won't make any choices, any choices, without going off to think about them first. Please?"

Everything was beginning to distort around the edges now; Kaito was starting to find it hard going, just keeping track. He opened his mouth to answer—

"Kuroba-sama? Perhaps you had both wait until you're more rested for that, don't you think?" asked Jii quietly from behind, and Kaito turned to stare at him as well, perplexed. What the hell? "There will be plenty of time tomorrow."

"I… suppose so. Tomorrow…" she tried to smile again; it didn't quite work. "Today, really." Very gently his mother touched him on the check, just the faintest brush of her hand. "Sleep. We can talk later."

"…Uh… Okay, Mom….."

As the door closed between them, the last thing he saw was Aoko, turning away and walking beside his mother, speaking quietly. After that, the fatigue that he had been fighting off tooth and nail finally descended; he was aware of Jii steering him towards the white softness of a bed, of his voice bidding him goodnight—

"Jii? Where've you been, anyway?"

"Here, of course, waiting; I told you that you would make it. Where else would I be, Young Master? Rest now."

--and that was all.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The blue kimono hung on its meter-long wooden rod against one wall, white maple-leaf pattern vague and dim in the shadowy room; and Nakamori Aoko wondered why she was still awake.

She was exhausted too, though not so much from physical activity (_she_ hadn't had to fight ninjas) as from stress. Watching Kaito…

His family had made her welcome. That had been unexpected; she was a cop's daughter, after all, _the_ cop's daughter so far as 1412 was concerned. But they had accepted her in as if she were all the more suitable because of that, which made no sense whatsoever…

Staring up into the dark, Aoko mentally smacked herself on the forehead. _Kaito's family. KAITO'S family. Remember? And you're expecting them to make __sense_

They hadn't even attempted to conceal their matter-of-fact knowledge of what he had been up to, his father's history, or their own talents in those kinds of things. It wasn't that they had come straight out and said _'Hello! We're a family of professional thieves! We do illegal things for a living and we're thrilled beyond words to welcome an international criminal into the fold!'_ or anything, but when they idly chatted at breakfast about the latest upgrade in security systems and rearranging their stolen-item retrieval schedule, it kind of got across that maybe, just maybe, they had something in common with the Kaitou Kid.

The young woman closed her eyes tightly. _To any police ancestors I have up in Heaven, I apologize profusely. I __meant__ well, but I think I've fallen into bad company._

Kuroba Hikarue had been—a little distraught when she arrived; mostly nerves about Kaito's upcoming 'entrance exam', she recognized now, but there was something else… something wrong. Something unnerving the woman—and Kaito's mom was made of strong stuff. It was worrying.

_Whatever it is, I guess I'll find out tomorrow. Today._ Aoko pulled the covers up around her a little tighter, turning over to burrow into the pillow. _This place… it's so full of secrets. Everybody seems awfully nice…_

_…but I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop._

That troubling thought chased her down into sleep.

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"G'nite 'Kaiji-nii. 'Kaiji-nii? You didn't booby-trap Kaito-niisan's room, did you?"

"Of course not, not on his first night here. Later, maybe….. Wait. Mika, you _didn't—_"

A door slammed. "Mika! Open that door right now, brat!!" Sulkily, the door slid open a crack. "_Did_ you or did you _not_ booby-trap Kaito-san's room?"

"…………………." The door started to close again.

"Remember last week, when you did that thing with the frogs? Do you _want_ me to hang you up on a coat-rack for the rest of the night?"

"…..You're no fun at ALL. And anyway, Obaa-sama caught me in his room and made me clean it up. And those frogs were cold and needed someplace warm to sleep so I don't know what you're so upset about. G'nite."

"Goodnight, brat." Two doors closed, and there was a long moment of silence. Then: "—wait-- WHAT the hell— AAAGHH!! MIKA! WHAT THE #$&/!! DID YOU DO TO MY BED?!?"

A door-lock clicked firmly shut, followed by the sound of giggling.

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_There was water running somewhere; he could hear it, smell it, feel the dampness breathing cold on his skin. Mud underfoot; a river? No; long grass swaying around his legs, the scent of many green things, of brackish water and a faint taint of stagnancy. Marshes? Maybe. _

_( I can't see—)_

_Wait, now he could. Fitful moonlight, broken by clouds. Yes; a marsh. There were trees in the distance, though…_

…_and people running._

_(A heist? Who got robbed?)_

_It was, he reflected as he moved soundlessly through the brush, a sad thing when people-running automatically meant people-stealing-something to his brain. Maybe it had something to do with genetics. It didn't HAVE to be a theft; people-running could mean a fire, an accident, a—_

_--hoard of armed soldiers on horseback waving swords—_

_Kaito dove for the nearest bushes. (What the hell?)_

_(Oh.)_

_This was a DREAM. Right. That would explain why the bushes were passing right through him… Fascinated despite the thunder of hooves all around him, he waved one hand and watched leaves slip painlessly from side to side._

_(Weird… I'm a ghost. Heh; I'm haunting my own dreams. Do I have feet? Huh; look at that. Thought ghosts didn't HAVE feet… Like I said, weird.)_

_Not weird enough to distract him more than momentarily from what was going on, though. The horsemen charged past; what were they chasing? Scrambling to his feet, Kaito stared after them; there was a small figure in the distance where the land sloped up into trees and boulders, just barely visible as a black blot in the moonlight. Dammit, he needed to be closer—_

_Everything blurred._

_(WHOA—) and he was in the middle of the horsemen as they reined in, rocky ground underfoot instead of mud. He wheeled about, shaken; time and the world had stuttered, shoving Kaito forward. How the hell had THAT happened?_

_(Never mind. Somebody's about to die.)_

_The black figure—no, blacks and grays, he could see that now, a weird ninja-ish sort of outfit complete with a swathing head-scarf—was backed up against a huge chunk of rock, weapons of some sort in his hands. They did not shine; the metal had been darkened, and somehow Kaito knew that this had been deliberately done. But they were __small__, just knives; and there were half a dozen horsemen with big fricking swords—_

_--and there was absolutely nothing he could do. Nobody looked at him, nobody paid the least bit of attention as he dodged weaponry, horses and riders. He wasn't there, not to them._

_(It's a dream, it's just a dream, I'm not real, no, __I'm__ real, __they're__ not real)_

_And just then… just for a second, he saw the masked man's eyes. They seemed to lock onto his own for a moment, saying nothing, saying everything… before the fight really began._

_Two of the soldiers went down, samurai-like helms tumbling as they choked on their own blood, knives embedded in their throats; Ninja-san was playing for keeps. The other four crowded forward, and then there was a blur of metal and movement and blood flying, a confusion of voices and the screams of horses and men—_

_(I don't want to see this, I don't want to see this, I don't want to __see__ this)_

_--there was that moment of distortion again as he was shoved forward. No horses now; nothing, not even bodies. Just the boulder, all splashed with blood. There was blood everywhere, actually; it pooled blackly on the ground, blotched the rocky surface where Ninja-san had had his back set, streaked in drying rivulets here and there where it had splashed. But the body was gone. Kaito crouched where he was, hands clasped protectively over his head, and listened to the lonely whine of the wind; and all he could think of was that moment of eye-contact, that one shared glance._

_Because if there was one thing he was sure of, it was this: The man had __seen__ him._

_What the hell was up with that?_

_What the hell?_

_What…_

_Oh. He was…_

Waking up…

…was like crawling out from beneath a rock. One that had the _HMS Titanic_ perched on top of it, with King Kong crouched on the deck juggling massive tanks. Wearing great big heavy lead boots.

_Oooogh…_

Faint light filtered in through white cotton sheets and Kaito curled tighter, burying his face in his pillow. "Five m'r minutes—"

"I'm sorry, Young Master, but you really should get up," said a familiar, apologetic voice. There was a rustling, and the young thief burrowed even deeper into his covers as he felt them tugged at. "It's after noon…"

"Mmfgl! N'gettin' up! G'way!" He yanked the covers completely over his head, snuggling into warm dark.

"Young Master, _please_ get up. Your breakfast—errr, lunch—is waiting…"

"Fk'ff!" Pillow, mmmmm… Drowsiness descended again, pulling the blinds down over his consciousness…

There was a sigh. "I'm sure you'll forgive me for this when you wake up properly." Somewhere in the muzzy depths of Kaito's brain, a cell or two raised their heads and looked at each other warily. That note of warning-- Should he worry?

Nahh…..

Covers rustled; there was a faint draft, a clink and rattle of something against glass, and then—

_**--**__**EEEYAAARGH**_

"I did warn you, Young Master," said Jii apologetically from a safe place across the room out of Kaito's reach. A flung pillow crashed against the wall beside his head, and he coughed. "Perhaps you might wish to get out of bed now?" Kaito's reply (another flung pillow and a stream of muffled imprecations) just barely missed the elderly thief as he ducked. "You've clearly been among low sorts as of late; wherever did you learn that last phrase?"

A tousled head emerged from the bedclothes. "From Nakamori-keibu," said his charge grumpily, scratching at stubble. "It's one of his favorites. _What_ time did you say it was? And what the #$&!! did you just put against my feet?"

"Ice cubes." Jii rattled the half-empty glass cup in his hand. "I've long been fond of iced coffee in the morning… or the afternoon, as it were. And it's just past twelve."

"Ngh."

The glass rattled again as it was placed on a bedside table. "I wouldn't worry about the lateness of the hour too much; what with your exertions and the time of your arrival, it's quite understandable." He lifted a cover from a tray waiting on the same table, and the delectable odors of coffee and toast dragged Kaito's eyelids up from half-mast to full attention. "And besides… in this house, odd hours are considered anything but 'odd'. Toast?"

"…is there jelly?"

"Of course."

The next few minutes were spent decimating the contents of the tray while Jii sipped his cold coffee; biting off the crust of his third slice, the younger thief eyed his elder as he rummaged through a nearby closet and laid out jeans, underwear and a sweatshirt (all belonging to Kaito; he supposed that someone had burglarized his home again, only this time without bombs. He was going to have to install a revolving door and a mat that read _'Housebreakers Welcome.'_) "Jii? What's with the valet act? Have you been reading _Jeeves Saves The Day_ again?"

One grey eyebrow went up. "You weren't raised here, of course; you wouldn't know, then…" Jii cleared his throat. "It's customary among the Kuroba clan for 'active' members of the family—those engaged in felonious pursuits—to have a personal assistant, not so much to act as a servant as to… smooth the way. To act as backup, as I did for Toichi-sama and for you more recently." He coughed, picking up his cup again. "Of course, the 'valet act' as you call it is optional." Dark eyes twinkled as the other eyebrow went up. "My brother Shunmei assists your great-uncle and has for a number of years; your cousin Rakkaiji has an assistant as well, as do several others living here on the estate—"

Kaito blinked. "You mean there's more of 'em?" He poured another cup of coffee.

"Of course; distant cousins, adoptions, trainees… While the clan is much smaller than it would have been had the cataclysm that I told you of not happened, still— Ah; let me get that for you, Young Master…" Jii reached for the coffee-pot.

His charge gave him an annoyed glance and moved it out of reach. "Can it, Jii; drop the 'I am the buttling butler who buttles' thing, I don't like it. No more picking up after me or playing babysitter, okay?" He scowled. "I don't _need _a flunky following me around, and I'd rather have a partner than a servant anytime."

The twinkle in Jii's eyes grew. "As you wish," he murmured… and Kaito wondered briefly if he had just been had. The old man nodded at a door off to the side of the room. "There's a bathroom complete with shower through there, if you wish to make use of it… which you might. I fear that last night's activities were not kind to your personal hygiene. A certain air of smoked haddock—"

"Yeah, yeah, got it; excuse _me_ Mister Clean. Back in a few."

The shower felt wonderful—and if the rest of the house was antique, at least the facilities were up-to-date. European style, polished brass, lots of tile… and lots of hot, hot water; mmmm. Kaito tilted his head back, letting the flood run down his face and down his chest. Grime he hadn't noticed the night before (man, he must've been a great sight—and smell—the night before at the dinner-table) grayed the water running down the drain, streaked the suds swirling around his feet. Weariness was mostly gone; as the young thief scrubbed at his back with a brush he had found hanging in the bath, he could feel the burn of overused muscles in calf and thigh and bicep, but… no scrapes. None of the scratches or bruises he had managed to collect.

Not one.

_Weird. Really weird. Good-weird, but still… weird. With all this family shit going on, I haven't thought much about the whole Pandora Gem thing. Too busy dodging big rocks… and Oh Boy, speaking of which: those infra-red beams. I saw 'em, they __know__ I saw 'em, and they want to know about it, don't they? 'Course they do. That Rakkaiji guy especially—'Cousin Rakkaiji'. Heh. Sharp; got a chip on his shoulder, maybe. Why? What's he think, I'm gonna step in and kick him out on his ass? Not bloody likely, as Hakuba'd say._

He turned off the tap, toweling off and beginning to dress.

This house… With his brain clearing under the influence of a few hours' sleep, caffeine and a dose of hot water, Kaito could damn near feel the weight of history bearing down on him. Everywhere there was what he was beginning to think of the family 'influence', their mark; even the fluffy white towels had the four-feather _mon_ woven into the fabric.

_It's mine, too—my mark, not just theirs. That's the weirdest thing of all. Well, next to the zucchini and finding out I kissed Cousin Rakkaiji._

Never mind all that, though… There was that stuff with his mom and Great-Uncle-WhatsHisName… Still attempting to comb his hair, Kaito paused as he stepped out of the bathroom. "Jii?"

"Over here." The old man had ensconced himself in an armchair at one end of the room; the book that he had pulled from the shelves there had _'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes'_ printed in gilt English lettering along its dusty spine, and despite himself the young thief chuckled. "Studying the opposition?" he asked, plopping down on the end of the bed.

"Indeed. One should know one's enemy; it makes the game that much entertaining."

"Guess it does… or at least gives you more material to tease 'em with." Kaito ran the comb through his hair one last time, making it stand even more on end as he went through memories hazy with fatigue. "Hey, Jii? Tell me: Why was Mom was so freaked last night—something about my uncle?" He poured a last cup of cooling coffee, watching Jii out of the corner of one eye as he did so.

_'Watson, you know my methods—' C'mon, Jii, give me something to work with._

And Jii was _dithering._ "Err. Your uncle." Wrinkled hands picked up Kaito's clothing from the night before (it had been left draped over the end of the bed); they folded the haori, unfolded it, turned it around, refolded it… "What did you think of him?"

--_and_stalling for time. "Seemed like a nice guy. What's Mom's problem with him?" Time he wasn't going to get from Kaito…

"—ahh—Perhaps she should tell you herself—" The black haori got refolded a third time…

"Uh uh." Kaito leaned back against the bedpost, hands clasped behind his head; he hadn't been in much of a shape to notice details about the room when he had crashed the night before, but it was a nice antique-looking four-poster, carved with—guess what?—flying birds. The wood creaked as he propped himself upright, giving his friend a rather hard stare. "Spill it, Jii. What's the deal here? Is he trying to make her move in or something, or—" He had an awful thought. "—is he trying to get _me_ to stay? Not that this isn't all sorts of interesting, but…"

Jii avoided his eyes. "He _is_ the head of your clan, Young Master. His wishes carry a lot of weight among your family—"

"…which, I might add, I didn't even know existed a month ago," said Kaito flatly. "So that's it, huh? No way; I may have a place waiting for me here, but who says I want it right now? Last night in the_ iei _room I said—" He hesitated; what had he said exactly? "—I said I'd pay for what I needed, said I was _with_ the family, that I'd back 'em up if they needed me… but I didn't say anything about moving here, did I? He can try to persuade me to if he wants to, but he's gonna have to give me a hell of a lot more reason than the old blood-is-thicker-than-water thing. I already _have_ a home. AND a life, one I need to be getting back to—and so does Aoko." The young thief raised an eyebrow. "Her dad's probably all twitchy about her being gone anyway—you want him banging on the door one morning, demanding we fork over his daughter? I steal gems, not people."

"Mmph." The old man's lips twitched. "I'd like to see him attempt to locate this estate. Young Master, if he were to show up through some truly astounding piece of tracking work, he would find nothing more than a perfectly legitimate family holding, owned by one Kuroba Kuehiko, a retired businessman spending his declining years peaceably in the bosom of his kin."

"Oh yeah? What kind of business?"

"Imports."

"…………………….."

"Quite legal ones."

"……………………………..."

"No, _really,_ Young Master." And Kaito could recognize a distraction when he saw it in the making; this time, though, he let his friend run with it. "The Kuroba clan has quite a number of valid, lawful trade ventures. Museum-grade and private reproductions of artifacts—you'll meet Hisui-san later, he's wonderful with them, although I understand that young Rakkaiji-san's been handling that area lately—restorations as well, and then there's Yunagi-san's security checks; she's been training little Mika for the past six months or so. Other things too, couriering goods between two parties and—never mind; you'll see when you tour the workrooms. Suffice it to say that the clan is quite affluent. " The old man smoothed his moustache and chuckled. "One has to pay the bills somehow, after all… in ways that can be verified during, say, a tax-audit. And if there happen to be other, more _profitable_ pursuits that take place 'under the table', ehh well… secrets are a way of life here."

"Hmm." Skeptical eyebrows saluting, Kaito was about to pursue this line of conversation when there came a knock on the door. _"Kaito? Are you awake yet, or do I have to come in there and __get__ you?"_

Aoko's voice had a certain threatening quality, mixed with a generous dose of long-suffering; apparently she had been awake for quite a while. And she had inherited her father's authentic Policeman's Knock. "I wouldn't make her wait, if I were you," murmured Jii gravely; "Aoko-san does not strike me as being long on patience."

"_You're_ not the one she's gonna strike," muttered Kaito, rolling his eyes as he headed for the door. "Secrets. Right. God, what I wouldn't give for somebody who'd throw me a straight answer or two—"

As it turned out Aoko wasn't alone. "Hi!" said Mika-chan from beside her, fidgeting in place. "We didn't think you were EVER gonna get up. Are you ready?"

"Ready?" The thief blinked. "Ready for what?"

Beside her, Aoko fought back a smile. She still looked a little appeared a little worn, but the simple black sweater and jeans that she was wearing today made her look more like the Inspector's Daughter he had grown up with and less like the beautiful young woman who had greeted Kaito the night before—okay, no less beautiful (and wasn't that a nice thought) but a lot more familiar. "Mika-chan's going to show us around," she explained.

"Oh yeah?" The young magician eyed them both, eyebrows slowly climbing. "Gonna take us on a Grand Tour, huh?"

Behind him Jii cleared his throat significantly. "Mika-chan knows _quite a lot_ about the Kuroba Clan and its members; she'll be a very good source of information, I should think."

"Oh yeah?" Kaito beamed. "Information is _always_ good." She really was a cute little thing, now that he was seeing her without a fog of fatigue wrapping everything, all skinny arms and legs and great big eyes—a lot like Ayumi in some ways, or how she'd be in a few years. "Works for me, Chibi-chan. Let's go! Where first?"

Dark eyes crinkled in a freckled face as the girl considered; Jii and Kaito joined them in the hallway, sliding the door shut behind them. "Obaa-sama said I should show you the outside first, so you'd know how the grounds are laid out. I'm not sure why--?"

Dark blue eyes widened fractionally, but Kaito nodded. "That'll be fine. Lead the way, Oh Exalted Mistress of the Kuroba Clan." Mika giggled and headed down the hallway, her tour-group close at her heels. And beside Aoko, Mika's cousin nodded to himself.

_It's to reassure me, Mika-chan… or maybe to lull me into a sense of security. A kaitou always likes to know where the exits are._

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"This place," muttered Aoko, staring up into frost-touched trees, "is _huge_ I had no idea it was this big—"

They had been through the greenhouses; they had followed the outer wall along formal, somewhat overgrown gardens; they had climbed up into towers and been shown views that stretched on and on—and then they had walked alongside MORE walls. Funny thing; there hadn't been but the one gate, the one she had come in through… But when Aoko had mentioned this, Mika-chan had _looked_ at her and said, "There are lots of gates, but you have to know how to find them."

_Oh…_

"Wait'll you see the rooftops," said Kaito softly to her as they followed behind Mika across a path strewn with fallen leaves. "I'll take you up there this evening and show you; it looks like a city." His feet whispered through the debris while hers crashed, and she winced just a little; she hated being so noisy.

Glancing up, the Inspector's Daughter caught Kaito's eyes on her for just a second; understanding flickered behind mischief. Deliberately a footfall went _CRUNCH!_, and he began stepping in a sort of crash-cruncha-CRASH-cruncha pattern, matching in time with Aoko's steps; he grinned when she started stomping in time—and she almost laughed as Mika-chan turned right around in her tracks, eyes wide. "You're NOISY!" she said accusingly.

"Uh huh. You wanna play too?" He scooped up a stick from the ground, breaking it in half and handing the pieces over. "Here." The girl took them with a bemused look and clicked them together tentatively. "That's the way," said her cousin encouragingly.

They started back down the path; _Crash-cruncha-CLACKCLICKITTYCLACK!-stompa-Crash!-cruncha-- "_WE'RE noisy," said Mika-chan with a certain glee. "I was taught to never be noisy unless it's part of a disguise, and I'm still learning disguises." Deliberately she crashed her way through a drift of frost-rimmed debris, clicking her sticks together in double-time. "You're good with disguises, aren't you? Shunmei-kun told me some of the stuff Jii-kun told _him_ that you did…" She paused, ankle-deep in leaves. "…um,andIwantedtoaskyouifyoucouldteachmehowtobeaphantomthief…?"

Aoko blinked. _Uh oh._

Those large, dark eyes… Aoko had done the chibi-eyes herself on her dad as a kid. Sometimes it had worked…

And Kaito had paused as well; the improvised Six-Footed Dead Leaf Marching-Band temporarily ground to a halt. "Uh—probably not a good idea, Mika-chan, or not just now." He scratched his head. "I'd hate to screw up your training. And," he added slowly, "I'm not sure how long I'll be here. Maybe later, okay?"

Mika-chan bit her lip. "But you're here now. You went through the Test, and everybody said that you did _great._ Why would you want to leave? Aren't you glad you're here with us? _I_ won't get to do the Test until I'm a lot older, and if I started learning NOW how to be a—"

Thin fingers brushed bangs back from the girl's forehead. "You're only, what? Ten? You've still got plenty of time. Jii said you were really good with the ninja-type stuff, right?"

"Ten and a HALF." The girl kicked at the leaves in front of her. "And I am good— Ojiki-sama says so. Last year I hit more targets than _anybody_ at New Year's when we did matches. Me and Yunagi-chan were WAY better than the others, and Rakkaiji-nii's teaching me to climb walls and things." She looked up from the leaves through long black lashes, still pouting a little. "Can you climb?"

Aoko rolled her eyes, stifling a comment. Beside her, Kaito shrugged slightly. "Oh… pretty well. What kinds of things are you climbing?"

Her sulks forgotten, Mika-chan grinned and kicked the leaves again. "I'll show you; it's _neat._"

"Really?"

"Uh-HUH."

And, a full twenty minutes of walking later, they saw that she was right.

"Oh, _maaaaaaaaaaaaaaan….." _Eyes lighting up, Kaito craned his head back. _"How_ high is this?" he asked, staring up at the craggy wall rising above them. They had taken a staircase down… and down… and down… and exited to a tunnel that sloped even further downwards, finally exiting into afternoon sunlight at the bottom of what seemed to be a very deep hole indeed. From opposite the tunnel a small natural cave took in the thin trickle of water that rained down over the ledge high above their heads; it was nothing like either Aoko or Kaito had ever seen, and the Inspector's Daughter fought back a shiver of incipient claustrophobia. It was such a DEEP hole, and the sunlight was a long ways above…

…and apparently acting on Kaito the way catnip acted on a cat. She had seen _that_ look on his face before, and he had already shucked his shoes and stuffed them inside his jacket. "OH no. Kaito, don't you _dare__!"_

"Huh? What?" Her friend paused in the process of flexing his now-bare-feet in preparation for a climb; standing on one foot with the other wiggling in the air, he looked like nothing so much as a jeans-wearing flamingo. "Why not?"

"No ropes. No _net,"_ she replied, eyeing the rough limestone mistrustfully. "And I'm not sure if your mom has enough life-insurance for this sort of thing." Mika giggled, already barefoot herself. "…and…" added Aoko a little sadly, "…I can't come with you. I'm not a—um, a—"

"—highly-trained professional thief with an adoring fandom that numbers in the thousands?" suggested her friend with an angelic smile; she could nearly see the halo.

"…actually, 'wall-climbing idiot' was what came to mind. Who do you think you are, Spider-man?" Her fingers itched for a mop, but she glanced at the rough stone a bit wistfully; it'd be nice, being included in _SOME_thing, not just being an onlooker— (and Aoko hastily stifled a thought about how much like her the other women who had been brought into the Kuroba clan must've felt, since those women had come in as brides and obviously therefore had nothing in common with her, right? Right.) "If there was a rope or something, maybe I would come with you; it looks sort of fun. I've heard about the climbing-walls that some gyms have, though I've never tried them. But—"

"—But there _are_ ropes, and harnesses. Nobody'll let me climb without one yet," pointed out Mika, tugging something nylonish and heavily buckled from where it dangled in the shadows of the wall; its line swayed from wherever it was anchored fifteen meters or so above, making the harness look like a huge black spider with inclinations towards bondage. "There's climbing-gloves too, AND shoes. If you'll help me put my harness on, I'll buckle yours…"

----------------------------------------------------------------------

…which was how Aoko found herself gripping cold rock a few long minutes later, digging toes in with crazed determination and wondering J_ust WHY did I think this was going to be fun?_

"Keep going, Aoko! Halfway there!" said the cheerful voice to her left, from where Kaito clung upside down on the wall like a wooly-haired bat. _Bat. Right. I'll show him what a bat looks like close up and personal, the kind the Tokyo Spirits use in their games. _Sweating, the Inspector's Daughter climbed a little higher and plotted to practice her swing…

…after she reached the top. DEFINITLY after she reached the top.

"C'moooooooon, Mika-chan's almost done!"

_Aaaaargh…_

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, Chibi-chan? What're those?"

They had stopped by an outcropping of what looked like ruins, once again butting up against the thick outer wall; grey stones with traces of mortar, a doorway and lintel, the blunted outline of what might have been a firepit once upon a time. A bamboo basket containing adzuki buns and several warm thermoses had been mysteriously waiting for them (Kaito had glanced mistrustfully at the treetops, muttering something about 'food ninjas') and the three had settled down for a snack.

"That's something Obaa-sama and Ojiki-sama said I needed to show you," the girl answered, young voice suddenly serious in the way that only a child's could be. "They want me to tell you the next bit of the story."

"Ah… okay." Kaito made a bun vanish from the picnic basket; the damp, cool air around the ruins smelled of wet leaves and the sweet steam of the tea in the thermos as he tilted it back and then passed it to Aoko. "Go ahead, then… we're listening."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

_Later on, remembering, Aoko would recall the history that they were told in the voices in which it was told in. Kuroba Kuehiko's careful old-man tones had been more suited to the tale than Mika's higher, childish ones, but somehow by the time she had heard the whole thing it had blended and become all of a piece: a chorus, not separate verses. One whole song made up of solos…_

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"See—when the army finally got there, their scouts came back and told about the stuff they'd seen—you remember, all the lights and scary things? And then later on when people decided maybe they should ask the scouts more questions, nobody could find them anywhere… Ojiki-sama said that he thinks the scouts never came back at all, that it was just some of the clan in their place. I don't know. Anyway—"

"What happened to the real scouts, then?"

"They got killed. But nobody in the army knew that, they just vanished." Ten-year-old nonchalance shrugged, dismissing the scouts, who seemed to be of supreme unimportance. "Anyway— later on, bad luck started happening to the army. You know? Like… tents burned down and the horses got loose… and the food turned out to be spoiled, and-- I remember, Ojiki-sama said that one morning everybody's fires wouldn't light, no matter what… and on the _next_ day, when they lit they all burned blue and green. That kind of stuff." Mika tilted her head. _"I _know how to make fires burn blue and green; you use salt…"

Kaito passed the girl the second thermos from the basket; it proved to have hot chocolate in it. "What happened next?"

"Um." Mika frowned. "The army sent people to look at the ruins—_these_ ruins, they were a lot bigger then—because they thought maybe they could build a permanent camp here. But the people they sent never came back; their horses did, though, and they had _handprints_ burned onto their hide." She shivered. "And they smelled like sulfur, and nobody could ride them; so the soldiers had to kill them... And the next day they sent some men with weapons to look at the ruins, but _they_ disappeared too; later on they found them in the river with handprints burned all over them too."

At that, _Aoko_ shivered. And Kaito swallowed. "Guess my ancestors were assassins after all," he muttered half to himself, and he wrapped his arms around himself as if he were cold.

Munching prosaically on a redbean-bun, Mika went on. "After that, nobody'd go into the forest until the army's priests went in first. So—I'm not sure if I really understand this, but—anyway, there were these sort of magician guys called _onmyoji…_ I saw a movie called that last year, but Rakkaiji-nii thought it was really crappy—Anyway, they sent some _onmyoji_ to look at the ruins. They didn't come back either, and—"

Her new cousin whistled softly. "So the body count was climbing… I wonder where all the people who vanished ended up at?"

The ten-year-old girl looked up at him. "Oh—well, you know the sinkhole? Ojiki-sama told me that when his grandfather was a kid, some of their bones were still down there at the bottom. They'd crumble if you touched them, though… I guess they've been buried somewhere, because I've looked and _looked_ but I've never found any of them. I'd like to've." Mika sniffed, aggrieved.

"Oh. Whoa. –So what happened next?"

Another sniff. "I'm trying to TELL you." Aoko watched, bemused, as the girl produced a large coin from one pocket, worn smooth and featureless with tarnish; she set it to walking through her fingers in an exercise that the Inspector's Daughter had seen performed over and over throughout her lifetime. "Next, one of the army's generals decided that there must be rebels hiding in the woods, so he sent a really large bunch of soldiers to kill them. They never even made it to the ruins, because—" (the coin slipped through small fingers; without thinking about it, Aoko snagged it out of the air and passed it back.) "—thanks, Aoko-san, you're awfully fast for a normal person—anyway, because as soon as they got close to the trees everybody started getting sick and falling off their horses, and then the horses wouldn't go any further, and— So they turned around and went back and told the general what happened."

Aoko turned a red-bean bun around in her fingers; the shadows were lengthening and it was getting colder outside, with the promise of snow breathing through the air. "Something in the air, maybe? A trap?" she wondered aloud.

The other two nodded; Kaito flicked a glance at the trees off to their left. "Probably. Wonder if there're any natural gas pockets around here? That'd be perfect." The young thief looked thoughtful, leaning a little further back so that he settled comfortably against Aoko, watching the way the shadows fell from the trees with a faint frown in his eyes. Tilting his head back until it bumped against Aoko's, he sighed; and for a moment she regarded her new position as a backrest a little indignantly. But then her friend's warmth began to seep through his jacket, and she gave indignation up in return for practicality.

And besides, she thought to herself, he felt nice. Warm, but not like he was crowding her; he always gave her room to breathe.

"Dunno… about the gas, I mean." Mika-chan got up, kicking at leaves as she stretched. "So… then one of the generals decided to set fire to the forest. He said that if there were rebels in it, they'd either come out or burn, and if there were ghosts then they could put the fire out themselves…"

"Oh—"

"…and so they lit arrows and shot them at the trees. And the trees caught on fire and kept burning, but then the fires turned _all different colors_ and—"

Aoko blinked. "Wait, you mean like… blue? And pink?" Behind her Kaito muffled a laugh, still watching the trees, and she elbowed him in the ribs.

"I guess so. I don't know how to make pink fire yet. –and then the fires all went out at the same time, and the next morning the general was found dead in his bed with a big red handprint on his face… I wish I knew how they did _that, _but I don't. And… after he died, _nobody_ wanted to come into the forest anymore. And for a little while nobody did."

Silence. Kaito and Aoko looked at each other. "Oh..." said Aoko softly.

Mika shrugged a nonchalant ten-year-old shrug. "You already said that. Anyway—"

"—anyway, don't you think it's time for someone else to have a turn, Brat?" The voice came from overhead; startled, Aoko shielded her eyes against the late afternoon sun and peered up.

"Wondered when you were gonna speak up," muttered Kaito under his breath as Mika stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. "Afternoon, cousin—Rakkaiji-san, right?"

"Correct." The older member of the Kuroba clan cocked one eyebrow as he smiled slantwise down at all three of them; the late light glinted from his eyes, and without a wasted motion he slipped free of the branches and dropped lightly down beside them. "Kaito-san and… Nakamori-san? Yes—" Those eyes; they were the same improbable, implausible blue as Kaito's, and they surveyed the three coolly as Kuroba Rakkaiji crossed his arms, leaning back against the trunk of the tree.

And Kaito, improbably, implausibly, found himself mistrusting those eyes, that look. There was just something about the guy—

"Your turn, huh?" Toichi's son met the indigo gaze squarely, a slanted smile of his own flashing in response almost in spite of himself. He could appreciate good showmanship (and a good entrance) even if he didn't quite feel like swearing undying faith in the showman. _Maybe it's __because__ I know he's a Kuroba,_ thought Kaito in a cranky little twist of irony. _We don't tell the truth, do we? Not with our faces or our words, or... not right away, anyway._

Kind of a sobering thought, that one. What was that saying about a taste of your own medicine?

_Whatever. Not getting us anywhere._ "So," said Kaito with his best (worst) charming grin as he fished around in his memory of the morning's discussions. "What's this about a workshop? I hear you do a lot of, uh, stuff for the family--? Repros, museum replicas, that sort of thing?"

"Oh, yes--" Kuroba Rakkaiji smiled back with just a hint of fang. "That sort of thing. Follow me, please, and I'll show you around. And afterwards I'll pick up the tale from where the Brat here left off--"

"I am NOT a brat!"

Kuroba Rakkaiji shrugged one shoulder, turning away from the ruins without a backwards glance. "Sssh, or I'll tell our new cousin what you tried to do to his room last night."

Slipping through a gap in the rocks, Kaito's older cousin moved across the carpet of dead leaves, silent as a shadow. And in the sulky silence that followed, Kaito felt his poker face sliding imperceptably into place. Now, why? he wondered, as he and his companions trailed after Rakkaiji-- and then his brain caught up. _"What_ did you do--? Mika-chan? Does this have anything to do with zucchini?" he asked suspiciously; the girl sparkled at him angelically, large dark eyes a perfect picture of innocence before she bounced on ahead towards the building that showed dimly through the trees.

"...just_LIKE_you..."

The muffled laugh came from just over his shoulder, and the young thief glanced back; Aoko had both hands over her mouth. "Oh, go ahead and mock me while I'm down, why don't you," muttered her friend beneath his breath. "Did I _ever_ boobytrap your bedroom? I mean, _ever?"_

The Inspector's Daughter stopped snickering. "Kaito... two words for you: _banana peels._ Do I have to remind you of the rest?"

"Oh. Well. If you're going to bring up ancient history and all that--"

_"Kai_to, you put them in my SHEETS. Three days running! You're lucky I didn't kill you," she hissed, trying to keep her voice down. They passed into the deep shadow of the stone building's doorway and into a stairwell, and Aoko's eyes flashed momentarily as silver as mercury as she dropped to a whisper. "You're lucky my _mom_ didn't kill you when she found out you'd been sneaking into my room. If she hadn't thought you were such a cute kid, she probably would've told Dad, and _he_ would've just shoved you into a sack and kicked you off the nearest bridge." Below them Rakkaiji-kun called out a cautioning word concerning the roughness of the stairs. They were dark, lit only by a small handful of incongruously-modern red LEDs placed a few meters apart; but the young woman made her way down the steps, negotiating the turns and uneven drops without effort. Following behind, Kaito wondered if she even realized what she was doing. "And if I tell Mika-chan about it and she pulls it on you, it'll serve you right, won't it?" From two steps below she glanced back at him, paused-- and Kaito realized that his eyes must be as luminous as hers. "But I won't tell," she said softly; and he smiled. Damn, but Aoko could be awfully sweet sometimes...

"--or at least not now. I might need it for later. You never know."

...for a hyperactive, mop-wielding, homicidal daughter of a crazed police detective, anyway. Kaito winced, muttered "Yes, dear," and trudged along at her heels.

The stairs weren't all that long, but they _were_ very dim, despite the tiny lights; several times the small group paused on their way down (Mika had managed to scoot into the lead, after all), and at one point Rakkaiji (who had been explaining something about the history of this part of the estate in a cool, distant manner) turned around to emphasize a point-- and went abruptly silent, pausing in place with one hand spread-eagled against the wall. With his altered vision, Kaito could just make out his expression; that meant that Rakkaiji, of course, must have been in near-pitch blackness except for the faint red glows of the LEDs. And _that_ meant...

"Kaito-kun? ...Is that _you?_ Your eyes..." Mika-chan was peering around past her older cousin; she sounded ever-so-slightly scared, and even though Rakkaiji said nothing at all, his expression spoke for him.

_Okay, thinking fast here..._ "Sure it's me-- well, depending on what color eyes you're seeing," Kaito said casually; he felt Aoko stiffen in front of him as the penny dropped. "I mean, if they're blue, it's me. Whatcha think? Nice effect, huh? You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to get them to glow like that." A little twist of the words, a bit of playfulness, a touch of preening_; Thank God I'm an expert at voice manipulation_, he thought with no particular feeling of pride; he _was_ just that good.

"Blue, yes..." said Rakkaiji-kun carefully; "...and silver. Interesting."

_Dammit--_

"And while I can understand the, ahh, shock value of having eyes glow like that during a-- 'heist', right--? I have to wonder why Nakamori-san's are like that as well." Rakkaiji's tone was mild, interested yet polite; apparently Kaito wasn't the only Kuroba that excelled in voice control. "That glow... like droplets of silver; beautiful, Nakamori-san. And I assume that whatever you've both done to yourselves allows you to see in a different spectrum than most people can?"

_Oh, he's good. Double dammit!_ "Err--"

"The infrared lines from outside-- the bit with the falling rocks; you remember?" said Rakkaiji-kun helpfully; "and... can you see in the dark? That'd account for the luminescence; animals whose eyes are reflective usually have excellent night-vision." He cocked his head to one side, hand tight on the stair-rail. "How do you-- ahh; but no, I'm not being a very good host, am I, trying to pry all your secrets from you like this... while the Clan is showing you ours?" He smiled; and Kaito was uneasily aware that the bastard _knew_ he could see his face. "Never mind. We'll have more of an actual give-and-take later on, hm?"

"'Kaiji-nii, don't be a jerk," said Mika-chan sternly from behind her cousin. "You're being _evil_ again." She peered past his elbow. "You both look like cats, sort of... or tanuki, only their eyes reflect back gold. Can you really see in the dark, Aoko-chan? I wish _I_ could." Dark eyes, pupils black-on-black in the near-lightless stairwell squinted at the Inspector's Daughter. "It'd be great for when I start night-training." One hand tracing the wall, the girl turned around and started back down the stairs.

For a long moment her older cousin stood where he was, that polite little smile of his in place. "I really hope that you can come to trust us in the future, cousin, Nakamori-san," said Kuroba Rakkaiji softly. "We've all a lot to gain and very little to lose. And--" he hesitated; for the first time there was a faint tinge of uncertainty in that smooth expression. "--I think that maybe, if everything I've heard about your current problems is true, you may need to ask us for help sooner than you think." He too turned to continue on down the stairs, leaving them behind in the dark.

_That goddamned, smug little-- who the hell does he think he is?!? _"Rakkaiji?" Kaito's sharp-edged voice made the other pause, almost out of sight at the landing below. "Has it occurred to you that I've managed just _fine_ without any of the goddamn Clan for several years now? I earned my reputation, y'know-- it's not all my father's, not anymore." Between them, he heard Aoko's breath catch a little.

Rakkaiji did not turn around. "Oh yes; I know that, Kaito-san. I know all about you, all your heists, all your battles with Nakamori-san's father, all the things you've stolen, all the things you've given back; and I've often envied you your chance to use your talents in such an _active_ way. Me? I've used mine for things within the clan grounds only; I very rarely ever leave." The emphasis on the word 'active' was unmistakable, but it wasn't... wasn't what? Bitter? Sarcastic? No, instead it was almost sad.

"Really? Why not? You seem like a pretty bright guy-- and there's plenty of room out there for more than one phantom thief; it's a big world, lots of stuff to see, lots of stuff to steal... Not that I particularly want any competition, but hey, if you want to go, then go; what's keeping you?"

"...A very weak heart, actually."

Kaito blinked; Aoko said it for him, faintly: "What?"

And _now_ his cousin's tone turned a little bitter. "You heard me. A thin spot in the left ventricle's wall, if you want the gory details; I was born with it. My little ninja role-play earlier? That was my limit, and I didn't feel all that great afterwards, I can promise you. If I'm careful I can manage here pretty well; I have a personal doctor on staff, not much stress, lots of peace and quiet... but out there? My lifespan'd be-- " He laughed softly, and Kaito was momentarily glad that they couldn't see his face. "--let's just say 'short' and leave it at that, okay? I found that out before I had to leave University; too much stress, too much physical activity and... well. That's why I volunteered to play ninja; I don't get the chance all that often." He shrugged. Oh yeah; definitely bitter.

Aoko bit her lip, looking back over her shoulder at Kaito. "I'm sorry, Rakkaiji-kun," he said softly.

_No wonder he's envious. Stuck here in this huge, moldering place, fantastic as it is-- I'd go insane, completely bugnuts. Shit. Poor guy._

The hand gripping the stair-rail tightened into a fist, white-knuckled and just barely visible in the dark. "Sorry? Why? I'm still alive, aren't I? And if my doctor's right, I might even make it to thirty before I die." With that, he slipped soundlessly around the corner and into the dimly-lit hallway beyond.

The two behind him looked at each other in silence. Feeling each like ten kinds of louse, they silently followed.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

The workshop was everything anybody could have imagined (that is, if 'anybody' consisted of an amalgam of Arsené Lupin, Leonardo da Vinci, MacGyver and just a touch of Rube Goldberg); acres of countertops, chemicals, microscopes, an x-ray setup in its own closet, paints, composites, mineral compounds, cutting and polishing wheelss... Everywhere pieces of unfinished reproductions sat, leaned, hung, glittered or reclined; it was enough to make even Kaito's purpose-driven fingers itch.

He wanted to camp out in the place. He wanted to play with the gadgets, supplies and lovely mechanical toys until his eyes were blurry. And the replicas, oh the replicas... Of course, it was all fake, every single shiny gemstone and gleaming piece of--

"Hey! I **stole** that one once! The real one, I mean!"

Rakkaiji (who seemed to be treating the previous conversation as if it had never happened, barring a certain tightness around the eyes) smirked. "No, actually you didn't. You stole a copy." He glanced around the room, frowning.

"Did NOT." Kaito's pride was wounded; he crossed his arms, glaring over the faceted sapphire ring that sparkled in its jeweler's clamp. "I know a fake from the real thing--"

"--even if it's another sapphire?" His older cousin's smirk widened. "You can take a low-grade piece of corundum, treat it with heat and a variety of chemicals, and produce a pretty decent stone; it won't be as good as the one you use it to replace, but it _will_ fool the eye... and the hand, too." Every variety of gemstone had its own 'heft', the feel that said 'this is the real thing' to an expert touch; it wasn't all looks. "You could tell the difference with a jeweler's loupe, but most thieves are a little too busy trying to get away with the goods to stop and admire the facets, aren't they?" He laughed, plucking the glittering bit of jewelry from its clamp. "This one-- the owner, Fushibara-san, had three copies made the first time around, fifteen years ago; I was still learning to cut on high-grade quartz at that point, my father did the work. This's a new copy; guess your heist made Fushibara decide to up his security. So I'd put that one back on your 'must have' shopping list if I were you."

Visibly sulking, Kaito opened his mouth to offer a scathing retort-- and then paused, almost shocked; he kept forgetting, he _didn't have to steal anything anymore_ He had found what he'd been looking for.

How was the family going to take _that?_

"...something wrong?"

The young magician blinked, still a little stunned by the enormity of the thought; _No, nothing,_ he meant to reply, but what came out of his mouth was, "What else do people do around here? It's not-- this place, it's huge; how many people live here, what do they do? Where are they? All we've seen--" The questions came bursting out, as much of a surprise to Kaito as to Aoko, whose eyes widened a fraction. "All we've seen has been you, Mika, the aunt and uncle, Jii and his brother and your housekeeper. There's _got_ to be more people here than this..." He waved his hands, trying to remember. "Jii said something about-- he mentoned some names: Hsui, somebody named Yunagi--"

Rakkaiji tilted his head to one side, considering. "You don't want to know much, do you? All the Kuroba Clan secrets in one day." He shrugged one shoulder, sitting down on one end of a workbench piled high with what Kaito realized belatedly were rolls of painter's canvas; an easel nearby held a half-finished work, something that could have come out of a Dutch Master's studio... except for the fact that the oils were still wet. "That's cousin Eichi's work," said the other casually; "You'll meet him tonight; and actually, I thought you'd be meeting my assistant, Uyeda... he was supposed to be here when we arrived, but he must've been called away. Yunagi-chan should be back in time for dinner as well; Yakumo, Nanase and Li should be back at the main house-- they were working on an outside project, but..." He shrugged a second time, hands in pockets. "Some of them've been around, watching from a distance; we have surveillance cameras all over this place... not that I need to tell that to you. Some of them have been out working or whatever; we thought it'd be easier for you to get used to things a bit at a time without everybody crowding around." One corner of Kaito's cousin's mouth twitched upwards in a sardonic little smile. "Everybody's curious about the famous Kaitou Kid, of course; they _all_ want to meet you. All of them."

From across the large room where she was examining some gizmo that Mika-chan was showing her, Aoko's head lifted; she was obviously listening, and Kaito saw her lips form the words that had popped up in his mind as well. He said it for them both: _"__All_ of them?"

"Oh yes."

"..."

Rakkaiji gave him a raised eyebrow and an almost sympathetic look; it broadened, however, into a smirk after a moment. "Just pretend you're putting on a performance, why don't you? There isn't a Kuroba that's lived that can't manage to--" There was a faint beep; mid-sentence, Kaito's older cousin paused and fished a cellphone out of his pocket and flicked it open. "Rakkaiji here, what-- Uyeda? What's wrong, I thought you were going to meet us for--"

He stopped. The young man blinked, his eyes widening; automatically they turned towards his new cousin's face as the hurried voice on the other end of the line continued. Kaito couldn't quite make out what the other was saying, but it was easy enough to tell that something, a major something, was wrong.

Really, _**really**_ wrong.

"...I see. I-- no, tell Obaa-sama that we'll be at the main house as soon as possible. You'll be there? --fine, and they'll--? Good. We'll see you there." Slowly the thin fingers clicked the phone closed; for a long moment, Kuroba Rakkaiji simply sat where he was, visibly regathering himself. Kaito had seen cops do that after being shot at... or, conversley, before they had had to shoot their own guns--

"What?" He felt a faint touch on his shoulder; Aoko had come up behind him (he had heard her, of course, but she had this way of slipping under his radar) and was peering apprehensively around him. Mika-chan was still rummaging around on a table, but she paused and looked their way; Kaito could just see her beyond a stack of boxes. "What is it?"

Something was wrong, something was--

"Ah--"

His cousin's own version of a Poker Face had slammed down; that couldn't be good. As apprehension began to knot Kaito's shoulders into rigidity, his hand automatically reached out and slid into Aoko's. _"What?"_ he demanded.

Rakkaiji sighed, standing up. "I-- there's no easy way to say this," he muttered, casting around for words. "Kaito-san... that was my assistant, Uyeda; apparently one of our people that's been keeping an eye on your home just called, and..." The older member of the Kuroba clan hesitated.

_**"**__**What**_ dammit?" Aoko put a hand on Kaito's elbow.

"...I'm sorry, but your house in Ekoda," his cousin said quietly, "burned down last night."

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_To Be Continued..._

_**Ysabet's Notes:**__ Okay-- first thing, NO KILLING THE AUTHOR, OKAY? No chainsaws, bullets, knives, explosives, carnivorous beasts, smothering-with-pillows, burning at the stake, fatal defenestration, beheading, smashing into a bloody pulp with a piano and/or safe, R.O.U.S.'s, spiked pits, or any other method that you've thought of. No, not even you, Icka. Got that? right._

_See-- there was this tribe of pigmies down in the Amazon, and they decided that I was the Avatar Of Waaka The Jungle Goddess, so they __kidnapped__ me and forced me to lie around for a WHOLE YEAR while they fed me rare desserts and gave me food-massages. So I couldn't write any Windfall. Really! I mean, who takes their laptop to the Amazon? Uh-- why was I in the Amazon in the first place? I, um, I... won the lottery! Yes! And a free trip to South America! Only the plane went down in a hailstorm and crashed in the jungle, and then the pigmies showed up and... uh... they had SPEARS, huuuuge ones! It was terrible, I tell you, terrible!_

_...yeah._

_Okay, actually? Dunno. This has been both a creative and uncreative year; some of this chapter was written ages ago, some of it in the last few months-- I've written less this past year than ever, but now all of a sudden it's picked up (due primarily, I think, to having my brain eaten by an RPG community called dominoeffect; it's improved my writing no end and gotten me enthused all over again, thank gods) and I'm writing again. So... to those of you who've hung on during my trip to the Amazon, I mean, my shameful and disgraceful hiatus..._

_**Thank you very, very much. Won't do it again, I promise.**_

_And to those of you who're new or relatively new: Welcome aboard! I'm a flake, but I __did__ promise that the story wasn't dead. In the time that I've been writing this thing, I've dealt with the ending of a 15-year marriage and lived through breast-cancer; what, did you think that a mere year of brain-deadness would make me drop it? Not a chance. (For one thing, my flatmate Icka would hurt me, and she knows where I live.)_

_Thanks, y'all._

_Okay, next chapter: Did it really burn down? Yes, it did. How and why? Wanna see? Well, then, I'll show you..._


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